Midnight Train
by GCatsPjs
Summary: Why is Brennan at the club?  Who is she with?  What is a partner to do?
1. A Singer In A Smoky Room

The room was crowded, smoky, stuffy and smelled like a mix between an ashtray and an old boot. Booth had no idea why Hannah had dragged him to this bar on the outskirts of D.C., and he shuddered at the thought of her coming to one of these places alone. All of the men were dressed in khakis and dress shirts, not t-shirts or anything too seedy. The music was loud and raucous and the dance floor was so crowded that it spilled into the bar area, with bodies writhing and gyrating along with the thumping music.

Booth felt old among the crowd of twenty somethings and thirty somethings, knowing that he was indeed in the upper echelon of that age bracket, he found himself cringing at the loud music, the sights and smells of the bar. Hannah's hand was planted firmly in his, pulling him along through the crowd. "We could have stayed at home." Booth said, almost under his breath, but Hannah heard his voice and turned.

"What?" She shouted over the music, her eyes narrowed in confusion as she tried to hear what he said.

"Nevermind." Booth shouted over the music, shaking his head. "Why are you dragging me here?"

"For some fun, Seeley!" She called as she pulled him along toward the corner of the room, she found a table that was free, but for an empty beer bottle, and she pushed herself onto the barstool.

"This doesn't seem like much fun to me… gyrating with a bunch of strangers in a mob setting!" He shouted.

"Live a little, Seeley… I thought you liked adventure!" She shouted, a smile on her face.

"I'm going to get us a drink." He said, watching her nod. "Don't go anywhere… if you move, I'll never be able to find you in this damn crowd." He said, as she nodded and smiled.

He elbowed his way through the crowd, his eyes focused on the bar ahead of him, and not on the large numbers of moving bodies that blocked his movement and pushed into him as he neared the bar. Once he reached the bar, he tried three times to shout over the noise around him so that the bartender could hear his request, finally settling on just pointing at the beer on tap and nodding as he tossed his money out on the counter. He was just turning around with the two glasses of beer, his eyes raking over the crowd for the table that Hannah was sitting at, the sheer numbers of people along with the constant movement kept him from seeing her, though out of the corner of his eye, perhaps four or five layers of people deep, he immediately recognized someone among the crowd.

His eyes flicked to the right, and among the throngs of people, he swore he saw a familiar form dancing along with the beat of the music. He laughed to himself, thinking that he was working too much, seeing his partner in here would be the last place he'd find her, yet the body type was what he recognized, the long legs, those high heeled shoes… brown hair, and then the woman turned. She was laughing, her head tipping back and somehow through all of the noise, all of the smoke all of the shouting and loud music, he heard her laugh out of every sound, ringing out through the room. She was dancing close to a man, her body pushing against his as he danced too, pushing himself up against her in a way that Booth could describe as almost inappropriate for a setting like this.

Her eyes looked a bit glassy, and she was holding a beer bottle in one hand, her body gyrating against this other man was making his stomach churn. He took a step forward not thinking and was nearly side swiped by another person making their way through the crowd, he dodged them and beer sloshed from the glass, splashing onto his shirt sleeve. "Shit." He muttered to himself, looking up, the view he had a moment before was gone, and he was blocked from the view of his partner, or who he thought was his partner as he shook his head in disbelief and then turned for the table where Hannah was waiting. He pushed his way back through the crowd and set the glasses on the table, sitting down across from her.

"That took a while!" She called.

"I thought I saw someone I knew." He said, sitting down in his seat, his focus immediately went to the crowd. He scanned each person that bumped, grinded, danced, flaunted, flitted or otherwise past their table, and didn't once catch a glimpse of what he had sworn was his partner. His focus was so intent that he didn't even notice Hannah was trying to get his attention until his hand was on hers.

"You hate it here, don't you?" She shouted over the music.

"I'm really not a club kind of person." Booth replied, sipping from his beer, he let his focus wane a bit on the crowd, and remain on Hannah a bit more, watching her dance a bit to the music while she sat on the barstool.

"What do you usually do for fun?" She asked.

"I chase down murderers." He shouted back, watching her smile at him, he smirked. "After that, it's usually just a good idea to lay low." He replied. "Maybe a little hockey now and then, but…" He shrugged.

"I understand." She nodded. "Thanks for taking me out though."

"It's no problem." He assured her, though his head was starting to hurt from the loud music, he just pretended to enjoy himself, conversing and focusing on Hannah, while periodically looking out to the crowd.

Then he heard it again, her laugh. It was an unmistakable laugh, like a bell ringing in the distance, and he couldn't help but spot its source among the throngs of people. He stood up abruptly, and Hannah looked to him. "I'll be right back." He said, watching a bit of confusion in her eyes. "I just thought of something I was supposed to tell Rebecca about Parker's soccer practice tomorrow." He said, chastising himself for using his son as an excuse. He promised himself he'd do some penance for that little lie and watched her nod, giving him a slight smile as he smiled back at her. "I'll be right back." He repeated, turning away from her, he was quickly swallowed up by the crowd.

He danced his way into the crowd, moving quickly so that he was out of sight of Hannah as he tried to find his partner in the chaos of the dance floor. He danced a bit until he heard her voice, loudly exclaiming to someone that she wasn't quite drunk enough 'for that'. Booth turned just as she did, and he was not surprised by her widened eyes, though he was surprised by the sly grin that spread across her face. "Hey stranger." She said, pushing herself into him, she began to dance against him, and despite his better judgment, he did the same. She was acting strange, not at all like the woman that he knew every facet of her life, she kept her eyes focused on his, and he danced along with her, keeping his eyes on hers. Her eyes told him not to say a word, and he was mesmerized by the look, unable to speak, he just stared at her.

She leaned forward, pressing her lips against his ears, wrapping her arms over his shoulder as she stumbled into his dancing. "Get Hannah, and get out of here." She whispered hotly in his ear. Her tone was hushed, serious, and entirely sober.

"What are you doing here?" He whispered into her ear between gritted teeth.

"I'm undercover. You need to get out of here, now." She said, pulling away from him, she let out a laugh as the man she had been dancing with before showed up. "Ah, there you are, baby." She said to the man, she turned to Booth one more time as he pulled her away from him. "Thanks for keeping me company." She winked at him, though she flashed another warning glance, before grabbing the beer from the man she was dancing with, and disappeared into the crowd once again, leaving him staring into the mass of bodies that was moving around him, as he felt his heart drop into his stomach, as full on panic set in.


	2. Some Will Win, Some Will Lose

Booth didn't know what to do, feeling the panic settling in on his body, he was too stunned to even move. He felt as if he had punched in the stomach as hard as possible, and knew it was quite possible that he could throw up right then and there. His partner was on an undercover assignment, and he had no knowledge of it? She was in the middle of a club, dancing and intermingling with these men of low moral fiber, and stunk of too much cologne and unprotected sex.

He turned on his heel and walked toward the table that he had left Hannah at, and watched her eyes light up when he approached the table, though they darkened the moment she saw the look on his face. "What's going on?" She asked immediately, her hand reaching for his arm, he pulled it away and grabbed his beer, taking a big swallow from the glass, he slammed it down on the table.

"We have to go." He stated in a very serious, very stern voice as he reached for Hannah's hand. She pulled it back and glared.

"What's going on, Seeley?"

"We have to go." He replied again, this time more insistent. "Just believe me, okay?"

"I want to know why we have to go. Did something happen with Parker?"

"No, it's Bones, we have to go."

"Temperance? What's going on with Temperance?" She asked, allowing him to take her arm as she led her through the crowd toward the door.

"I'll explain outside." He said loudly over the music as he helped her from the club slowly. They pushed their way out onto the street, and she turned around immediately, watching Booth look frantically around.

"What's going on, Seeley? What's wrong with Temperance?"

"She's in there." He said, only now realizing that he's out of breath. "I thought I saw her when we first got here, and I confirmed that she was there. She's undercover." He said, lifting the phone to his ear as he ushered Hannah away from the club, he looked around to make sure that no one could hear him. He waited as he walked with Hannah down the sidewalk. "Charlie, I need you to get me some information." He said, chattering into the line to the other agent, he waited for a moment and thanked him, then hung up the phone.

"She's undercover, I thought that you were partners?"

"We are, which is why I can't figure out what the hell she's doing in there." He said, looking around, he spotted a gray van on the side of the road close to the corner, parked among the other vehicles for people that were attending the club. "I'm going to find out." He said, holding Hannah's hand, he started to pull her along down the street, her feet slamming into the sidewalk behind him as he nearly literally dragged her toward the van.

"Seeley, where are you…"

"Just… keep it down for a second, okay?" He said, approaching the van, he immediately recognized that it was a government issue vehicle, and he began to slam his fist into the back of the van.

"Seeley, what are you…?"

Suddenly, the door opened, and Booth didn't even wait for a response, he just climbed into the back of the van, pulling Hannah along the way.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Booth said to the agent, who was now focusing on the monitors in front of him, there was a camera moving through a crowd of people. "Is that Bones?" He said, watching the agent ignore me. "Listen to me! That's my partner in there… is she in danger?" Booth asked, frantic, he grabbed the other agent's shoulder and he turned around sharply, pulling one headphone off his ear.

"She's going to be in danger if you don't shut up and stop making a damn scene, Booth."

"What's going on?" Hannah asked, looking around at all of the equipment, she wasn't unfamiliar with the devices, but she was thoroughly confused as to why they were staking out the club.

"For having such a good looking girlfriend, you were dancing pretty comfortably with my target."

"Target?" Booth asked, focusing on Brennan, he watched the camera move through the crowd, moving methodically. "Why the hell do you have my partner working with you, Willis?" Booth asked angrily.

"She doesn't just work for you, Booth. She works with the FBI. We needed a civilian."

"She's not a civilian, she's a forensic anthropologist." Booth grunted as he watched the other agent look at the screen. "And she doesn't work for me, she works with me… what the hell are you doing, Bones?" He asked, as if she could hear what he was saying, he watched the motion on the camera.

"Yeah… he's here. Don't worry, he hasn't yanked the headphones off my ears just yet." The agent chuckled.

"You danced with her?" Hannah asked, but Booth's eyes remained on the screen. There was no time to argue about such trivial things, his focus was not on his girlfriend.

"What's the assignment?" Booth asked, getting a folder handed to him from the agent, he looked over it quickly. "What the hell, Willis? She's replacing your partner?"

"My partner is in the hospital, I needed someone for this assignment."

"Your partner was shot in the line of duty, she was shot on a goddamned undercover assignment!" Booth exclaimed, slamming the folder down on the console. "Get her out of there now!"

"Seeley, I think they know what they're…" Hannah said, feeling his arm brush her away as he leaned over the other agent.

"Get her out of there now, or I will go in and physically drag her out of there."

"She's signed the forms, Booth. She works with the FBI. You two have gone on plenty of undercover assignments." Willis said, glancing back at the other agent, he turned his attention back to the cameras and mumbled something into the microphone to Brennan. "That's right." He said into the microphone. He looked up at Booth. "She said get lost."

"She didn't say that… let me talk to her." Booth said, reaching for the headphones.

"Booth, I swear to God, if you fuck up this assignment, you're going to end up suspended. Just cut it out, let her do her job." Willis said calmly.

"Seeley, we should go… You don't want something to happen because you interfered."

"I am not leaving this van until the assignment is over." He said angrily, still glaring at the screens as Brennan worked her way toward the back room.

"Seeley, we should go." Hannah said firmly, catching Booth's eye for a moment, she looked angry, and his face was showing that he clearly did not care. He heard Willis talking quickly into the microphone, and the camera had whipped around quickly, showing a bit of a panic occurring in the club. People were moving quickly past Brennan, and Willis was trying to get her to respond, when suddenly a large explosion shook the van, the sound was loud and disruptive, and the screens in the van went white with snow.

"What just happened?" Booth asked, glancing to Willis, whose face was white with shock. "Fuck, Willis! What just happened?" Booth asked, grabbing his shoulder, the man said nothing, and without another word or thought, Booth was out of his van and running as quickly as he could toward the pandemonium of screaming and burned people who were exiting the club in a mass exodus, trampling and shouting, fighting for air and help, Hannah and Willis watched as he fought his way through these people toward the building, as sirens screamed in the distance.


	3. Hiding, Somewhere In The Night

The ringing was so loud, the piercing thread of constant sound slamming into her eardrum made her head hurt, made her teeth hurt, made her body hurt. She couldn't move, not an inch as her eyes remained closed, the sounds of the room around her muffled as the whooshing sound of a respirator made her only slightly cognizant of her surroundings. There was the low sound of a voice in the room, two voices, maybe three, it didn't matter, she was far too tired and confused to even think about moving.

_Dancing, loud music. The smell of cigarette smoke, and the buzzing of the microphone hidden deeply in her ear. _

The ringing was slamming into her brain and it needed to stop, it needed to stop or she would scream. She would scream if she could scream, if she could find her voice, find the strength, find anything other than the ringing and the sound of her heartbeat. There was a burning sensation in her lower extremities, and an itch on her shoulder that she wished she could scratch. Her nose and mouth were covered, her chest forcefully rising and falling, and the muffled sound of a heart monitor was beeping against the ringing.

_Crackling of the microphone in her ear, the thrum of Booth's voice in the background demanding answers. Her words to him. Get lost._

Ringing, beeping, thumping. The sounds of the room, and breathing, the sound of someone breathing. Someone was breathing nearby, snoring possibly. How could someone be snoring if there were people talking. No one was talking, just snoring. Time was passing quickly under the trance of the fluorescent lights in the room she was in, and between the ringing, beeping, thumping, breathing, and snoring, she thought she'd go mad. So many sounds, muffled and incomplete, and the only one that made her brain vibrate with pain was the ringing.

_The loud tremor and bang sent her hurling against across the room, her body slamming into the wall, a bathroom stall door slamming into her as the heat and smoke consumed the club. Breathing was crucial, but not an option._

She attempted to concentrate on the breathing. She wondered for a moment if it was her breathing, or someone else's, and her thoughts were interrupted by the snoring. She concentrated on the low, slow, methodical intake of breath. It wasn't loud snoring, just uncomfortable sleep snoring, and she tried to listen to it as it sucked in and out with a nasally whistle. She succumbed to unconsciousness once again at the lulling sound of that low breath.

_Screaming, there was screaming everywhere, screams of injured, screams of people trying to escape, screams of dying party goers and static. Static in her ear as the piece had fallen, but soon the screams were overtaken by the ringing, that incessant ringing, and pain. It was a white flashing pain, mixed with fear. Broken. She was broken and she couldn't breathe, couldn't hear, couldn't call out. She was dying._

She was jarred slightly into consciousness suddenly by the sound of sharp voices. One voice was deep and one higher, a woman's voice. She still wasn't functional, she couldn't move, couldn't hear clearly, the ringing was still present, but the voices kept her alert. She couldn't understand their words, just simply that they were angry, though familiar for some reason. She was still in pain, floating between unconsciousness and awake she listened to the frustration in the visitor's voice and wondered if she was imagining it. She wondered until the sound of the heavy door slammed, and the room was filled with silence.

Silence but for the ringing, but for the beeping, the thumping.

There was pressure on her hand suddenly, warmth. It was not skin to skin, but something different, itchy, like a bandage. The person holding her hand was wearing a bandage on their hand, both hands. The muffled sound of a sniffle as a drop of wetness fell onto her skin, rolling gracefully down her hand to the bed, she wondered for a moment who would weep for her. She wondered for a moment how she had gotten here in the first place, and where 'here' was.

_She was jarred from her state of giving in when she was moved suddenly, the pressure of the door lifted from her body sent a rush of hot air against her skin. She whimpered in pain as she was pulled from the wreckage, a calm, soothing voice in the background, panicking, and breathing heavily despite the smoke, despite the fire, the broken glass, and broken people that surrounded them, she was carried into the air of the street, and instantly lost herself in the euphoria of her own mind._

She could feel herself starting to panic, the beeping increasing in speed, her breathing becoming erratic, and the sound of the man's voice erupted through the ringing in her ears. She could hear the voice now, the words he was speaking, and though they didn't quite make sense, she found them soothing, she found them familiar, and she calmed. She had no way of knowing how long she had been lying on this bed, no way of knowing what was going on around her. And there was no way she'd find out until she opened her eyes.

With the ringing still loud in her ears, the beeping, slowing back to a steady rate, and the soothing man's voice above her, she attempted to open her eyes. They burned at the attempt, dry from being closed for so long. Her vision was blurry, her breathing ragged, and as her eyelids moved, the sound of the man's voice became more frantic. The voice was still muffled and she couldn't quite make out the words he was saying. She felt his hand on her cheek, the bandage scratching against her skin, a warm kiss on her forehead. Then one word slipped through the ringing, and though her vision was blurry, she could see the depths of a pair of brown eyes burning into hers.

"Bones?" He whispered. 


	4. Hold On To That Feelin'

She was unable to speak, move, or even think straight, and the dark eyes that were staring into hers were drowning in tears suddenly. She could hear his voice, but couldn't make out the words, her mind was jumbled with memories, her head pounding, and the ringing in her ear was piercing to say the least. Groggy and disoriented, her eyes squeezed shut, and she heard immediate panic in his voice, the tone was begging, but begging for what? She opened her eyes again, and he immediately seemed to calm.

* * *

He could feel the panic in his chest as he spoke her name, trying to get her to respond to him. It had been five excruciating days of waiting, worrying, crying, begging and pleading for her to move, to make any motion on her own. The doctors were uncertain of damage, brain damage, hearing damage, any damage that she would need to be awake for them to identify other than arbitrary brain scans that told him nothing. The only way he'd know if anything was wrong was if she opened her eyes and spoke to him, looked at him, recognized him. He needed her to wake up, he needed her to wake up now. A tear dropped from his eye and landed on her, his bandaged hands wrapped around hers. He heard the monitors, the beeping a bit faster than the constant pace he had memorized, and he froze as he whispered soothingly to her, listening to the monitors slowly calm.

Her eyelids were moving, just slightly, just enough for a flash of blue, just enough for him to see the movement and he said her name, again and again, he whispered her name hoping she would respond. His heart was pounding so loudly he could hear it in his ears. Then he saw it, her eyes flick to his, and that instant flash of recognition. He leaned down and placed his hand on her cheek, the bandage itching his hand, but his lips moving down to gently kiss her forehead, lifting his eyes to hers. "Bones." He said again, watching her mouth move slightly, it was as if she wanted to speak.

* * *

Her lips pressed together as she tried to say his name, but all that escaped was air. Her throat was raw, her eyes still blurred and her head spinning circles, she was forced to close her eyes again. Her eyebrows knitted and her lips closed again as she attempted to speak, but nothing was released, nothing but air. Time was either going by too slowly, or too quickly, she couldn't figure out which, and she could feel the emotion rising up in her chest as she desperately wished the ringing in her ears would stop. She closed her eyes and tried to stop the ringing. She gasped a little, trying to catch her breath, and felt pressure once again on her hand, and that desperate voice.

* * *

"Bones." He said again, watching her mouth move slightly, it was as if she wanted to speak but couldn't. He watched her eyes, the pain in them as she opened her mouth and closed it again, air escaping from her lungs as she closed her mouth again, her eyebrows knitting in pain. The calm in his voice was wavering with each gasp of air she had, and her eyes closed once again. Booth could feel the panic in his chest once again when he lost sight of those blue eyes, when she stopped moving but for the tiny gasps of air that were escaping her lungs. Her blood pressure was normal, her heartbeat normal, but his was out of control.

* * *

She felt a finger across her cheek, wondering to herself in her muddled brain if she was crying or not, she wasn't sure. She gasped again, a bit of a sob escaping her lips, the sound muffled but so loud in her ears, she realized that it was her own voice, and let out a whimper. She felt lips on her forehead, soft tender lips and a low voice, whispering as she gasped again, her eyes still closed, her mind reeling with everything and nothing all at once. Instead of fighting, though she kept her eyes closed, listening to the faint beeping of the monitors as she focused on ignoring the ringing. The soft voice above her whispering tenderly, as she drifted back to sleep.

* * *

He lifted his hand to her face, touching her cheek, he could feel his own tears falling down his cheeks in silent streams of fear and sadness. He watched a tear drop from her face, and watched her mouth open as she tried desperately to move, to speak, and the only thing he heard was a light sob from her lips. The pain was evident in her face, and he reached across and pushed the button on the morphine drip as she let out a whimper.

"Sleep, Bones… just sleep..." he whispered tenderly.

He watched the wrinkles of pain smooth as he watched her, the morphine doing its job. He watched her drift to sleep, her gasping slowing to steady breathing, her monitors back to the same sounds they had made for the past five days, as he sat and held her hand, waiting and watching, knowing in his heart that she would pull through.

* * *

**I ask that you're patient with the timing of this story. I apologize that we havent gotten any answers about the undercover assignment or the other person that had been in the room, but we will... When was the last time I let you down?**


	5. Payin' Anything To Roll the Dice

Booth's hands burned beneath the bandages, the medication used to sooth the burns and cuts in his flesh was wearing off, but for the time being, it didn't matter. He wasn't there for himself, he was there for his partner. His partner who was lying in the bed, full of pain and unconscious mostly due to the medication they had pumping through her body for the past five days.

Smoke inhalation had caused some oxygen deprivation, and that, alongside the concussion that she had gotten from being slammed into the wall, it was best if she remained unconscious through some of the recovery process. Booth had gotten very little answers from Agent Willis about the case, but mostly because he wasn't emotionally prepared to face anyone at this moment.

He was the one who had run into that building unguarded. He was the one that had stepped over broken bodies, broken glass and splintered wood in a highly unstable building. It was filled with smoke and screaming victims, calling out for help, calling out for mercy, calling out in pain as he pushed his way through the wreckage toward the back of the club, where he knew that Brennan had last been. He pulled at planks of wood and broken bottles, the heat from the fire making everything so hot, and the glass cut his hands as he pulled himself through the wreckage, trying to remember his way through the mess that was surrounding him, through a doorway that was now crooked and unsteady as he shoved his hands against the stall doors that had been pushed out into the hallway. He screamed her name, her nickname, her full name, anything he could think of. He screamed desperately, hoarsely, he screamed because he needed to find her, needed to get her out of here. He screamed because nobody else was screaming for another person, only for themselves. There were people reaching out for the wreckage, people who could see this man moving deftly over the debris, in the opposite direction as them, someone uninjured and uncaring of the chaos around them. They reached for him, and he pulled away, pushing his body over the debris and wreckage, he pulled at a bathroom stall door, one that looked similar to the last images on the camera, and there she was.

He had exclaimed her name, the low rumble of his voice was deeper, and he coughed at the smoke, his thoughts uncaring about the debris, or his burned and cut hands. He had found her and needed to get her out. He needed to save her. He spoke to her in soft, even tones, checking to see if she was breathing, checking for obvious injuries, blood or broken bones. He knelt at first, reaching to her ear, he pulled the ear bud from her ear, flinging it across the room, he then gently lifted her into his arms, all the while saying her name, all the while talking and promising, and praying that they would make it out alive. He kissed her head, and could feel her head flop back against him, her eyes opening for a moment as she let out a whimper. He promised her everything as he lifted her up, promised her the world, and hoped that she had heard every word, prayed that he could make good on those promises, and simply carried her broken body over the wreckage of the club, knowing that the screams of the other patrons would haunt him for a very long time, but he was not about to release his precious cargo, not for a second.

The moment he stepped out onto the street with her, the wind blowing the smoke in the opposite direction, he got his first lungful of fresh air, and thought he would collapse from the shock of it. He held her in his arms, and looked down at her, her eyes open and unseeing as he continued to whisper to her, until she gasped his name, her eyes closing as he desperately screamed her name.

He wasn't sure what had happened right after that moment, because the haze of the smoke had clouded his mind. He had been reminded by Hannah what had happened, but could remember none of it. She had told him that she found him kneeling on the sidewalk with Brennan in his arms, he was sobbing uncontrollably, kissing her forehead, trying to wake her. Ambulances were arriving, fire trucks and police were blocking off the street, and he just sat on the sidewalk sobbing into his partner as he begged for her to wake up.

Hannah had tried to see the extent of the damage, but Booth refused to let her be touched, screaming at her and pushing her away with each attempt as he cradled his fallen partner. An EMT had approached them quickly, because they were at the side of the street, and Booth immediately began to rattle off what had happened, who she was, and all of her allergies, and her medical history as if it were something he kept banked in his memory just in case. Hannah watched as they put Brennan on a stretcher, Booth refusing to leave her side, his hands bloody and torn, is face covered in soot, but for slight rivulets through the dirt, where his tears had washed it down his face. Hannah had ridden in the ambulance as well, trying to get him to calm down, trying to get him to have his hands treated, tried to keep the oxygen mask on his mouth.

He refused it all, his body hunched over his partner as they lifted Brennan into an ambulance, whispering the same promises that he had been making since he had run into the building, swearing on his own life, that if he could make things right again, he would.


	6. Just One More Time

Booth listened to the monitors for another two hours before he was able to move again. He was jarred from his staring contest with the unconscious woman before him by the sudden buzzing of his phone in his pocket. He wanted to ignore it, but knew it was impossible. His bandaged hand covered hers, and he pulled the phone from his pocket.

"Booth." His voice was shakier than it had been earlier, more worn than when he had spoken to her, saw her eyes open, the focus on him.

"Booth, its Angela." Her voice was clear and concerned, and no question followed the greeting.

"She opened her eyes." He managed to croak out. "She… she opened her eyes for a minute."

"Did she wake up?" The eager sound in Angela's voice was unmistakable, and when she heard the pause in Booth's voice, she nearly burst into tears. "Booth, did she wake up?"

"It was just a second, Ange." He whispered. "She's in a lot of pain."

"She has to wake up, Booth." Angela whimpered over the line. The sound of her voice was heartbreaking, the gasps for air indicative of her struggle not to break down. "She has to wake up."

"She's going to wake up, Angela. She's going to wake up, this is Bones we're talking about here." He insisted, sucking in a deep breath, he watched the sleeping woman. "Listen." He said, his lower lip slipping into his mouth, he bit it hard in order to say the next words. "Come down to the hospital; sit with her… talk to her."

"They only allow one person in her room at a time, Booth." Angela whispered.

"Yes. I have to go down to the Bureau to take care of some things, get some answers. We need answers." He said, listening to his own trembling voice as he watched the lines and numbers on the screens surrounding the bed. He listened to her confirmation, her breathing regulating after a moment, and with that, the phone clicked, and he was once again left with just the sound of the monitors.

* * *

The ringing had lessened, maybe. Maybe she was going deaf.

Maybe she was dead.

Dead people didn't have ringing in the ears. Dead people don't have heartbeats. Dead people can't feel the tender touch of a warm hand in theirs.

She could hear her heartbeat quickening, her breathing sounded loud to her ringing ears, perhaps that wasn't her breath at all, perhaps it was the breath of someone else, or another machine. She could feel the fear pumping through her veins, and she felt more alive in that moment than any other moment since the explosion.

Though she still couldn't move.

Reality was sliding back and forth, and the lights were dimming and becoming brighter each second. The hand in hers was so warm, so loving, and familiar. She couldn't place it but knew that it wasn't the rough, bandaged hands of her partner. Someone else was holding her hand, someone else was talking to her, someone else was trying to convince her to wake up and face reality.

Her eyes burned a little less, unless she had just gotten used to the pain, and her throat was still raw. Her chest felt heavy, like a weight was on it, like something else was breathing for her. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, this time over the sound of the constant ringing, and the soft lulling sound of a woman's voice.

She recognized the sound of her friend's voice, talking softly into her ear about babies and growing old, asking her questions that she wasn't prepared to answer even if she were completely awake. Angela cried her own tears, a drop landing on her skin, just as Booth's had; friends sharing unknowingly in the sadness of a fallen friend.

Fallen. She had fallen.

Hard.

And not just against a literal wall, but a figurative one as well. She had left for Maluku lost and confused, not knowing her place in the world. She had spent her time alone, and came back to the Jeffersonian with a new respect for life, a new respect for death and the work she did. She came back with the knowledge that what she was doing was giving immediate results, and what she had been doing in Maluku was boring at its best.

Brennan found that she craved adventure, and it was only fueled by incidents such as the guerrilla attack that she and Daisy had experienced. She never felt more alive than when she was fighting back, fighting evil, fighting for something she believed in.

She was more than willing to show anyone who wanted to know about this new person that she was becoming, especially Booth, whom she had often credited with helping her to open up the most. She would admit that she had been disappointed when she returned home and found that Booth had moved on with another woman. Jealousy was probably an emotion she had experienced on more than one occasion, but for the most part she had been doing just fine when Hannah came into their lives. She was just fine with Booth's relationship with his new love, and just fine with the friendship that she and Hannah had even struck up.

What she had found that had changed, however, and what she had missed the most about her experiences prior to her trip to the Maluku islands was the danger, the intrigue, and the personal side of the cases. She had been opening up emotionally in the weeks since she had returned from Maluku, not that anyone else had noticed, and she was becoming bolder and brash, more adventuresome than she had ever been before.

She would even go so far as to say that she had become addicted to the thrill of being in danger, addicted to the adrenaline rush of interrogating suspects and chasing down criminals. She had become addicted to being alive and real and a warm, living, feeling human being, and she didn't realize it until she had been away from it for seven long months.

But along with this addiction, came the realization that she had lost the one person that she thought she could share this feeling with. Booth had been taking more cases internally, taking Sweets to interrogations instead of herself, taking cases with less danger, with less fear and gunfire, with less risks, leaving her to the lab.

At first, she thought she would be happy with less danger in her life, giving her more time to work on the unclaimed bodies that sit in bone storage waiting to be identified. But the longer she sat in wait, the more boxes she filed away, and the more bones she saw, the more that need for that adrenaline rush would pull at her concentration.

It made her anxious, sitting and biding her time, and the longer she was away from it, the more hungry she became to experience it again.

What was once a job had become a desire, and what was once a desire had become a need, and that need had turned into an obsession.

The last case that she and Booth had worked on together was an easy one. She had stayed in the lab most of the time, and most of the communication between she and her partner had been over the phone. The case was solved in less than a week, and already she had been finding herself in a state of unrest.

On a whim she called Andrew Hacker, explaining to him that she was hoping to broaden her scope of investigation, and felt that she had some other assets that the bureau could use to their advantage. Andrew had always been impressed with Brennan's investigative abilities, her ability to see things that others seemed to miss, and because her expertise was invaluable, she was already contracted with the FBI, and because she was willing...

He agreed to it.

At first she had been placed on small assignments, undercover assignments that were simply for suspect identification purposes. She worked closely with several agents, though her involvement was strictly confidential, and neither Booth nor anyone else at the Jeffersonian knew of her involvement in these cases. She kept her work with Booth, completely separate from the confidential cases she was moonlighting with.

Until that night.

It was her first big assignment. Rival gangs were playing deadly games with one another, and there was chatter that members of the rival gang would be attending this club owned by the brother of a murdered gang leader. Brennan was sent in as an undercover agent. It was her responsibility to identify members so that arrests could be made before anyone got hurt. Her only assignment was identification, nothing more.

That was before it all fell apart.


	7. Living Just To Find Emotion

Booth was startled awake by a monitor, his eyes flying open as he nearly tumbled from the chair. He glanced to the offending machine, noting that the only change was an increase in speed, and not something dire or life threatening. He stared at the lines on the monitor, sleep deprived vision blurred them together as he felt his own breath finally return. His eyes then settled on the woman in the bed, expecting to find a peaceful expression, he was startled by her eyes staring back at him.

"Bones." He said, breathlessly aware of the recognition in her eyes, the fear. "Bones, hey." He said, unsure of himself, unsure of his words. He stood up and nearly stumbled over himself as he leaned over the bed, over her. She looked scared, uncertain, wary, and her eyes reflected that back to him so clearly. "I'm right here."

Her lips moved slightly, sticking together from the dryness of the room, she emitted a sound that he was unsure if she was moaning or trying to talk. Her brow furrowed, and her eyes closed tightly, and for a moment he thought she was slipping back into unconsciousness. Her lips pressed together, and she made sort of a humming sound for a second, the sound raspy and broken, and when she felt the coolness of his body moving away from hers, her eyes opened rapidly, her head turning in the direction of where he was just a moment before.

"Booth?" She finally was able to say, though it sounded odd to her ears, he was in her line of sight once again.

"I'm going to get you something for your throat… ice chips, okay?" He whispered, watching her brow furrow, her hand moved, looking for his.

"No." She whispered, finally grasping his finger, he completed the connection by gripping her hand with his bandaged covered hands.

"Bones, your lips are so dry." He whispered. He watched as her eyes filled with tears. "Do you want me to get the doctor?"

"No." She whispered, a tiny squeak of her voice escaping.

"Do you know what happened?" He whispered, letting his thumb gently run across her forehead. "Do you remember?"

"Yes." She managed to whimper a bit.

"Are you in pain, Bones? Do you need me to…"

"No." She said, making the statement stronger with a weak squeeze of her hand. A tear slipped down her face, and his hand moved swiftly to capture the tear in the bandages on his hand, allowing it to soak into the thin gauze. "Don't go." She pronounced each word very carefully, very slowly, as if she were hearing it differently in her head, her eyes flickered between both of his, and he nodded his head.

"I'm not going anywhere." He whispered, very assuredly. "I am not going anywhere." He held her eyes with his own, and she watched him reading her expression carefully. "Six days." He whispered. "It has been six days. I have been here for six days, and I will be here until you ask me to leave." He whispered.

She swallowed, feeling the parched dryness of her throat, it was painfully sore, but she couldn't bear losing eye contact with him for a moment. Not yet.

He continued his conversation, finding that with each word she seemed to relax just a little more. "They will only let one person in here at a time. Everyone has been here to see you, to talk to you. Angela was here earlier today. You haven't been alone for longer than the time it takes for a test to be done, Bones. I didn't want you to wake up alone."

He watched her eyes remain on his for the longest time, the fear slowly changing to something else. He thought he recognized the expression as shame, embarrassment, and ultimately sadness, but couldn't be sure. These emotions were not ones that frequently passed over his partner's face, so they were virtually unrecognizable to someone who didn't know her well. Booth, however could read her very clearly, though he kept this knowledge to himself.

When he had left earlier in the day, he had gone back to his apartment first. It was quiet to a degree that was almost deafening to him, having memorized the sounds of the monitors in Brennan's room. He wasn't prepared for such silence. He closed the door behind him and walked inside, looking around to find that Hannah had certainly cleared out in a hurry.

Blocking that knowledge from his mind, he simply took a quick shower and changed, packing a bag for the hospital as he secured and locked his apartment, grabbing the spare key that Hannah had left behind and pocketing it as he made his way to the Bureau.

Nobody there had any answers for him, the case she had been working on was confidential, and at this point he was too exhausted to get to the bottom of anything, or to cause any fights with his boss or other agents. There would be time to find the truth, but for now his only goal was to get back to the hospital by his partner's bedside. He had arranged leave for himself, citing the injuries to his hands as reason, though it was obvious to them that he was most likely taking leave for his own sanity, drowning in self pity, or worse. He then made his way back to the hospital, pausing to talk to Angela, before returning to his place at her bedside.

"You're hurt." She choked out, allowing another tear to fall from her eye, he captured that one as well as he tipped his head.

"I am fine." He replied.

"You…" She said, taking a gasp of air as she started to cry. "You…"

"I am fine, Bones. I'm okay. It's just my hands… and a little bit of smoke inhalation, but I'm okay. I promise. See, I have all of my phalangicles…" He said, wiggling his fingers at her, he watched the sadness clear for a second as she tried to calm herself. "I promise. I promise." He whispered, calming her down, he leaned down and dropped a tender kiss on her forehead, feeling her hand grip his just a little harder, as she tried to hold onto this moment.

"I… did this." She sucked in a breath as her breathing became erratic. "I did this to you."

"Bones, you have to calm down." Booth whispered, glancing to the monitor, he watched her chest rise and fall rapidly, her tears falling faster and faster as he tried to calm her. "Bones, please… please calm down. You didn't do this to me… you didn't do this to me." He whispered. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, just so softly, she could hardly feel it, and her breathing suddenly began to slow, as he kissed her forehead, and watched her eyes steadily as they widened in surprise. "You did not do this to me." He whispered definitively.


	8. Don't stop Believin'

She seemed to lose track of time after that moment, and she wasn't sure why. His lips had pressed against hers, and though it felt so right, and so calming, it felt so wrong. She fixed her gaze on him, on his eyes, and stared into the dark depths of his soul for what could have been a second, could have been an hour, she couldn't have known. He held her gaze, for however long it was and said nothing, his eyes not holding the same surprise as hers, he knew what he was doing.

"What happened?" She whispered finally, as confusion collided with her logical mind, and she couldn't think of anything further to say. His brow furrowed. "Booth?"

"You need sleep, Bones."

"No." She said, her hand taking his gauzed hand, she squeezed it, watching the pain in his face. "What happened?"

"With what?" He asked. "What do you want to know?" He asked. "Bones, you need to…" She squeezed his hand again, and her brow furrowed. She needed answers. "A bomb."

"I know that much." She said, trying to breathe deeply, she could feel the burning of her lungs. "I know."

"Six people killed… over sixty injured." He said.

"You? Were you inside…?"

"No." He shook his head. "But when you're better. I want you to tell me why you were in there."

She closed her eyes tightly, her ears were still ringing, her heart pounding in her ears as well, and knowing that she had caused him pain, knowing that she had made him worry. He wasn't supposed to know. She opened her eyes and watched his loving gaze on her broken body. "You weren't supposed to be there." She said. "You weren't supposed to get hurt."

"So you were meant to die in there, huh?" He snapped. Her words had surprised him, and were very much unlike her. Temperance Brennan was one for self preservation, but here in this bed, she was without power, without will. She was broken. "I would have never forgiven you." He replied coldly.

"I'm tired."

"Then sleep." He replied. "But it isn't going away just because you close your eyes. You're going to have to face me, Bones. You're going to tell me."

"You're angry."

"I am very angry with you." He admitted, unselfishly revealing his emotions, she deserved no filter for his anger, she had lost that right. "Sleep."

"I can't sleep if you're angry with me." She said, trying to keep her eyes open, they seemed to be closing on their own volition. "I can't sleep." She whimpered.

"You need to sleep. We can talk later." He whispered, reaching for the morphine drip, he pushed the button. "You're in pain."

"You keep pushing me away. I needed to do something. I need to talk to you." She whispered. "Stop." She whimpered. "I need…" She mumbled, her eyes closing, though her words lingered in the air. "Stop pushing me away."

"If you ever knew how close I'm keeping you to me, Temperance." Booth whispered, her eyes offered him a flash of crystal blue, and just a millisecond of focus, before they closed tightly once again, and her mind and body drifted to a state of forced relaxation.

His words echoed in her mind, and though the drugs had pushed her from reality, her mind was still reeling. Flash after flash moved through her mind, his voice echoing. She wanted to call out to him but couldn't find the words, she needed to break free from the weight that was holding her in the bed. She needed to find him again. It felt like it could have been a few minutes, when her eyes finally opened again, but from the darkness out the window, she could see that it was no longer day time.

She turned her head and saw a crumpled body on the chair beside her, his back twisted awkwardly, his eyes closed in sleep. Her heart ached for what she had caused him, and she just wanted to run from it all. Regardless of her pain that the medication was dulling, regardless of the burning in her lungs, she attempted to move from the bed. She reached down with trembling fingers and pulled the tape from her IV, pulling out the needle, she held pressure on the wound for a moment, her eyes on him.

She didn't realize though, that his body was tuned in to her monitors, the sleep he had been lulled into was only possible by the constant pulse of her heart monitor, and when it picked up, his eyes immediately opened. He sat up when he saw her hanging her legs from the bed, and stood up faster than she could respond.

"No." She said desperately.

"Lie down." He said, feeling her pull away. "Bones, you need to lie back down."

"No." She said, tears springing to her eyes. "I need to go home."

"You're not going home, no. You're staying here. Please."

"Booth, stop!" She said, her voice scratchy and broken. "Stop!"

He held her arms tenderly in his hands and he looked directly into her eyes. "Please."

"I can't be here." She whispered.

"You need to be here. You're hurt." He said, running his thumb over her temple, he could feel the scratches on her face beneath his skin. "Please, Bones. Please lay down. Please?"

She could see the fear in his eyes this time, not the anger, and though she knew his anger was just below the surface, she couldn't deny this pain. She tried to catch her breath, and she watched him. "No more medicine."

"You're in pain, Bones."

"If you give me more medicine, I will leave." She said stubbornly. "No more."

He watched her expression, the stubbornness in her eyes was clear. "No more medicine." He shook his head.

"Promise."

"I promise." He said. "But you need to tell me when you're in pain."

She closed her eyes and mumbled. "You used to just know."

With those words, she drifted off again, her attempted escape having exhausted her, as the man who had stood vigil over her bedside, intensified his gaze on her resting body.


	9. Living in a Lonely World

His focus had been on her rising and falling chest, not in a lewd, stalker like sense, but in a 'she's breathing, you can breathe too' assertion to himself. His eyes focused on the gentle rhythm of her breathing until he felt the stern hand of the nurse clamp down on his shoulder. He nearly jumped into a standing position at the contact, his eyes focusing blankly on the woman standing beside him and for that split second he forgot to breathe.

"Who pulled out her IV?" The nurse snapped. "Did you do this?" She asked him. It could have been the first time she asked, it could have been the tenth, and all he knew was that she was not happy with him.

"She… she did it." He managed to stammer, focusing on Brennan, and then back to the nurse as she prepared the IV again. "No," he said, holding his hand out. "She doesn't want medication?"

"Sweetheart, this woman was blown up, nearly crushed. She has burns, cuts, smoke inhalation, broken bones. She needs medication. We need to keep infection out, pain levels manageable, and she needs to remain hydrated." The nurse explained, taking Brennan's arm. As soon as her arm was lifted, Brennan opened her eyes and pulled away.

"No." She gasped, eying the nurse with a sense of panic. "No." Her voice was low, and she sounded congested, despite the hissing whine that escaped her lips.

"You need fluids, Ms. Brennan, you need your medication administered."

"No morphine." She whispered. "It makes me tired. I can't concentrate."

"There is no need to concentrate, you're here to get some rest and recuperate. How is your vision?" The nurse asked.

Brennan swallowed hard, focusing on the nurse as best as she can. "Still… blurry." She said.

"Your ears?"

"The Tinnitus has subsided a bit, but the ringing is still constant." She said, her eyes still focused on the nurse, refusing to turn her head to the man who was standing just a foot away, watching everything before him. The nurse worked with the IV, and carefully placed it, when Brennan put her hand on the nurses for a moment. "No morphine, please." She whispered.

"Honey, I am fixing the line. If you need morphine, you use it. It's better to have the choice then to simply insist on going without." She said, noticing that she still hadn't looked the man in the eye, she knew exactly what had happened. She had been a nurse long enough to know the situation. "This button is yours." She said to Brennan. "And if I catch anyone else using it, they'll be kicked out, do you hear me?"

"Yes." Brennan whispered.

"Was anyone else administering medication to you?" The nurse asked, knowing full well the answer to the question, but wanted to give her patient the right to have her guest asked to leave for a legitimate reason other than the fact that he hawked over each and every procedure.

"No, Ma'am." Brennan whispered, giving in just a little, she made a point not to make eye contact with Booth.

"Well, if I catch you pulling your line one more time, you'll be restrained, you don't want that, now do you, Ms. Brennan?"

"No." She whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Now get yourself some sleep." The nurse whispered, nodding toward the window. "Sun will be up soon, and then we'll be back to bothering you every couple of hours again." She said, watching Brennan nod. "Sir, do you want a cot or something? Someplace to sleep?"

"No." Booth replied, settling in the chair. "I'm fine here."

"You're sure?" The nurse asked.

"Can you get him a cot please?" Brennan said softly. "He shouldn't be sleeping in that chair with the physical state of his back." She said, her eyes solely on the nurse, and not once flicked to his. "He won't ask for one himself."

"Bones." Booth said in just a minor protest.

"I'll have someone bring a cot in for your guest." The nurse nodded. "As long as he knows he's simply your guest, and not your doctor."

"I assure you, he understands." Brennan nodded, closing her eyes as the nurse left the room. She attempted to breathe deeply, the pain of her lungs forcing her to wince, he watched in silence.

He was afraid to speak, worried that she'd take anything he said the wrong way, and was also not very confident that anything he had to say would come out angrier than he intended, even though he could feel his frustration with her bubbling to the surface. She turned her head and finally caught his eyes, noting the way he was holding back. She knew what he was thinking, and had no way to stop his worries. "I didn't tell you about my eyes or my hearing because I don't want you to feel like you have to worry about it." She whispered, noticing that his jaw clenched when she spoke. "Booth, you should go home. You should be with Hannah."

"Forget Hannah." Booth snapped. "I'm not leaving right now."

Brennan watched him rest his face in his hands for a second, rubbing his temples for a second as he let out a sigh and stood up. "What happened?"

"Nothing." He said. "It's nothing."

"Partners don't say 'it's nothing'." Brennan whispered.

"Yeah, well… I'm not your partner." He said, stopping himself. "I'm not… I'm not your partner in this, Bones… in whatever you got yourself into here. I don't… know what this is." He shook his head. "I don't know what to think, what to do. I don't know what to say to you." He said, pacing the floor slightly, his emotions quickly bubbling to the surface. He stopped for a second, staring at the floor.

"What is it?" She whispered. "Booth?"

"Get some sleep." He said staring at the floor. "I'll… I need some air." He said, looking up to catch her eyes. He could see the worry that danced in them, worry that he was going to abandon her, worry that he wasn't going to return. He watched as she moved her hand as if she wanted to beckon him closer, grab his hand just in case he decided to run. He then did something that he never thought he'd do.

He walked away.

He stepped to the door despite her protest. "I need some air." He said again, his ears hearing, but not listening to her words. "I just need some space so I can breathe." He said, and without a word of reassurance, he disappeared out of the door and into the hallway.


	10. Strangers Waiting

Booth's feet pounded down onto the stairs as he made his way as far from Brennan's room as he could. He was sore from sitting in the hospital chair, and tired from the rest that he wasn't getting, and his body was sure to let him know these facts. He went as far as he could, slamming his arm into the bar on the door, he found himself in main lobby of the hospital. It was slightly darkened and empty, and the only sound was the distant hum of a janitor's vacuum cleaner. He stared at the front doors; the possibility of freedom from the hospital was something that he would welcome at this moment. He could feel his breath in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest, and he could hear Brennan's voice in his mind.

He stepped warily to the side, ignoring the beckoning of the doors for a moment; he knew that he wouldn't be able to leave the hospital now. He couldn't leave the hospital when Brennan knew for sure that he was angry with her, not before they had a chance to talk. His shoulders slumped and he walked to one of the chairs, and sat heavily into it. He let out a heavy sigh, and a slight groan of exhaustion before tipping his head back and rubbing his face with his bandaged hands. It was only then that he realized that he wasn't alone in the lobby. On the stretch of seats behind him, he heard movement, and Booth glanced behind him. A man sat up in the seat and grunted slightly, yawning.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up." Booth said, sincerely, he caught the older man's eye and gave an apologetic nod.

"Nah, it's okay." He yawned. "I can't sleep well here anyway. I am pretty sure they do a survey on the most uncomfortable chairs ever, make them worse and then hospitals buy them up and put them in the waiting room."

Booth laughed, it was sincere, but sounded a bit stressed, but the smile on his face was sincere. "I know exactly what you mean." Booth nodded.

"Patient?" The other man asked, nodding toward Booth's hands, he looked up into the younger man's eyes for a moment.

"Me? No… no, I'm here for a friend. These are incidental." He said, watching the other man nod. "Someone you know admitted?" Booth asked.

"My daughter was." The man said, though his voice took on a distant tone, and his eyes flickered from Booth's. "There was an explosion at a night club, she was there."

"She was injured?" Booth asked, swallowing the guilt in his chest, he could see the man's eyes lower again.

"They said she was just feet from the blast." He said, sighing, his eye contact now with the floor. His voice was lowered and the sadness seemed to emanate from his soul, his eyes spoke volumes with a simple glance. "She held on for a day or two…but…" His voice cracked.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Booth whispered softly.

"Thank you." He said, trying to remain strong. "Her fiancé was with her at the time. He's in ICU, he's in bad shape, and they've kept him under a drug induced coma since he got here." He cleared his throat. "I want to be able to tell him…tell him, about Katie." He whispered.

"I understand." Booth said, nodding his head. "I'm Seeley Booth." He said, holding out his bandaged hand, he shrugged. "Excuse the bandage."

The man smiled slightly at Booth and held his hand out, lightly shaking his hand. "Bill Enders." He replied.

"My friend was also in the explosion." Booth admitted, noting the other man's attention pique immediately. "She was in the restroom, blocked by one of the stalls." He said, swallowing his admission tightly.

"I'm sorry." Bill replied. "How is she?"

"She has some severe burns… broken bones, smoke inhalation, and scratches and cuts. She's a very stubborn woman though."

"A very lucky woman." Bill whispered. "The police think that Katie was blocking her fiancé, she was in front of him when the explosion happened." He whispered. "They won't release her body." He said softly.

"Who won't release her body?" Booth asked, trying to remain a bit distanced, he could see that this man was hurting, he could see that he was angry.

"The government." Bill replied. "Apparently the club was under investigation for something at the time of the explosion, and they're not saying anything. They asked that her body be released as part of the investigation." He cleared his throat. "What was I supposed to say, you know? 'No, you can't have my daughter's body in order to find out who killed her'? She's all that I had, Mr. Booth." Bill sighed.

"I understand." Booth replied. He could feel the awkwardness of the conversation weighing on him a little more, and the intensity in the other man's eyes was dark and deep.

"I'm sorry." Bill said softly, shaking his head. "I really shouldn't be bothering a stranger with this. I'm sorry."

"No." Booth said, touching the other man's shoulder. "No, its fine, it's more than fine." He replied.

"Mister Booth?" A voice echoed through the empty lobby as a nurse walked toward the two men. Booth turned to her and nodded. "The cot is arranged in Ms. Brennan's room. She's asking for you."

"Thank you." Booth nodded. "I'll be right up." He said, turning to the other man. "I should probably…"

"It was nice to meet you, Mr. Booth." Bill said softly.

"Again, I'm sorry for your loss." Booth replied, shaking his hand. He then pulled out his wallet, and pulled a card from within it. "If you need anything, please give me a call." He replied, handing over the card to the other man. Bill looked to the card and back to Booth. "I'll see what I can do about getting your daughter back to you as soon as possible. If I find anything, I'll be sure to let you know."

"Thank you." Bill said, watching the younger man's sincerity in his eyes. He watched Booth stand up and excuse himself solemnly, his shoulders still slumped as he walked with the nurse toward the elevator, an air of surrender surrounding him as he turned the corner and out of sight.

* * *

The nurse walked with Booth to the room, and left him just outside the door, and disappeared around the corner toward the nurses' station. Booth stood outside the door for a moment and tried to decide if he had cooled off enough to go inside. She had requested him to return, and here he was, but the stubborn side of him was unsure if he should give her the satisfaction of having him by her side simply because she called for him.

He paced for several minutes, feeling the weight of his own body pulling him down, and he knew that he needed some semblance of rest or sleep. His pacing was slow, and when he looked to his watch, he noted that it was nearly four in the morning, and that gave him the small push he needed to get himself into the room. He had been pacing for nearly an hour, and he now knew it was time to face his anger head on, because regardless of his personal feelings, Brennan symbolized more than just a friend and partner. He loved her with all of his heart, and since when would anger be something to get between the two of them?

He opened the door slowly and looked in on the woman in the bed. Her eyes were closed, and her chest was rising and falling in a slow, rhythmic pattern that he had familiarized himself with. He sighed with relief when he realized that she had fallen asleep waiting for him, not that he wanted to admit to being a coward, but he did know that he needed more time, and probably more space. He glanced to the cot on the other side of the room, situated with a thin blanket and a pillow for his comfort, and he glanced back again to his sleeping partner.

He figured that she had pushed the button for her pain medication, and it had helped her to slip back into the calm sleep she seemed to be in, and was happy that she wasn't afraid to self medicate herself. He could only imagine the pain she felt was excruciating, and it made him feel more at ease seeing that she was sleeping. He stepped to her bed and touched her hand, wondering if the monitors would pick up, indicating that she was awake. There were no indications that she was stirring, and he slowly sucked in a breath.

"Bones." He whispered under his breath. "You're all that I've got. You're all that I need." He said, before squeezing her hand slightly. "Sleep well." He said, leaning down, he pressed his lips against hers. He stood up straight and watched her sleep for a moment, before shuffling his way to the cot. With a slight groan coming from his aching muscles, and a grunt from his lips, he lay on the uncomfortable cot and rolled to his side, covering himself with the blanket.

Across the room, Brennan's eyes opened, her head turned toward the figure of a man lying on his side. His back was to her, and for that she was grateful. His words had given her a chill, the pain in his voice was evident, and it took all of her strength not to open her eyes as he stood above her. She watched him for several moments, wishing to call out to him, but knew that he needed his sleep. He had returned, and not because she had asked, but because he wanted to return. He was there because he needed her, that was what he had said. She could feel the scratchy and dry feeling in her throat, and a tear in her eye, as she closed them tightly for a moment. She then reached for her morphine button, and slipped her finger onto it, finally administering the relief that she felt that she had earned.


	11. Just A Small Town Girl

When her eyes flickered open, and she was aware of her surroundings for longer than just a nurse's poking and prodding. She turned her head toward the cot that she knew was situated in the corner, and let out a whimper at its empty sheets. Her ears were ringing louder than ever, and her breath caught in her throat as she started to cough. She could feel her body shaking with each cough, her eyes closed tightly as she let out a pain filled whimper.

A cool hand covered hers, and she turned her head and through her blurred vision caught the dark eyes of Angela staring back at her, wet with tears, broken by fear. "Ange." She whispered, sucking in a deep breath of surprise, she caught herself from coughing again. Angela could not speak right now, fearing that she'd lose all composure in front of her friend. Brennan felt a deep sense of panic rising from her chest, knowing that Booth was no long in the room, she could feel her fears quickly turning to a reality. "Booth?" She said, taking short, shallow breaths. "Booth?"

Angela cleared her throat. "He had to take care of a few things."

"Is he coming back?"

Her friend's brow furrowed and she looked concerned, unaware of the terror that she held deep in her eyes. "Of course he's coming back. Bren… Do you need anything?" She asked, though what she really wanted to ask her friend was why she had been in that club.

Brennan ignored her friend's question, and tried to control her panic. Control seemed to be her main objective every time she woke up. She tried to control the pain in her chest, the burning in her skin, and she blinked again, hoping that her blurred vision would sharpen. "I need…" She said, her throat burning as she tried to hold back the sob that she was attempting to hide. "Ange, I need…"

"What do you need, sweetie?" Angela asked, leaning in to her friend, she squeezed her hand tenderly, the sympathy that she held was staring Brennan directly in the eyes, and she watched her friend's eyes close tightly. "Bren, talk to me."

Brennan's eyes squeezed shut as tears began to roll down her cheeks. A sob caught in her throat as she attempted to catch her breath, but it was too late. Once that dam had been broken, there was no turning back. "I need to get out of here." She said, squeezing Angela's hand, she pulled it weakly and opened her eyes. The blue of her eyes were light, almost clear, and her pupils were tiny, as small as the end of a pin. The whites of her eyes were speckled with a web of redness, and tears filled her eyes again and again, replenished each time a stream of salty water trickled down her face. "I need to get out of here."

"Bren, you're hurt…"

"I don't care." She said, trying to breathe deeply, she was in danger of hyperventilating. "I don't care, I don't care." She said again and again, pulling her friend's hand. "I need to go."

"Bren, where do you want to go? You're still very hurt. You need to stay here for a little longer." Angela said, eying the nurse's call button, she looked back to Brennan, and then to the button again. "Do you want me to call Booth? Do you want to talk to…"

"No." She said, swallowing her tears, her tongue darted across her lips as she tried to regain control. "No, he's… he's probably at home… at home with Hannah, and telling her that I…"

"Sweetie." Angela interrupted. "Hannah left."

Her eyes connected with Angela's and for a split second, Brennan could have sworn that her vision cleared. She imagined her mouth was agape with shock, and her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath. "What?"

"She left, sweetie." Angela whispered, unsure if this was really news to her, or if Booth had told her and she had just forgotten. "Didn't Booth tell you?"

"No." She said, shaking her head slightly, she could feel the tears threatening again. "She just… left him?"

"Bren, he wouldn't leave your side. He…told her how he felt…"

"Felt?" Brennan whimpered, her breath getting caught in her throat, she simpered slightly. "Angela?"

"How he feels." Angela corrected. She could see the confusion in the other woman's eyes, and she knew that she had to tread very lightly. "About you, Bren." Angela said, noticing that Brennan was becoming more and more upset with each passing moment. "Brennan, you need to calm down."

"No." She whimpered, sucking in a breath, she began to cough. "No, no…Angela, no. He loves her."

"He loves you."

Brennan turned her head from Angela, coughing and crying. Her sobs were heartbreaking and real, and Angela had no idea what to do to calm her down. Her hand stretched out to her friend, and she rested it on her temple, pushing the hair in her face from her skin, she spoke in a soothing voice. The door opened, and a nurse stepped inside, her eye catching Angela's. She moved across the room to Brennan, and Angela sat back in her chair, as the nurse tried to talk to her. Brennan refused to look at her, crying into the pillow angrily.

"What happened?" The nurse asked.

"She… she just she's upset about something…"

The nurse talked soothingly to her, but Brennan refused to relax, lying on her side, she pulled at the wires and tubes while she cried into the pillow. She was inconsolable and broken, her mind was addled with thoughts and fears, and waves of words and memories. She hiccuped through her tears, and tried to find her control.

"Isn't there something you can do?" Angela asked. "Can't you sedate her or- "

"No." Brennan snapped, rolling onto her back, the sneer she shot at her friend was filled with fury and fire. "No more medicine!" She said in a cracked whisper. "No more medicine." She said again.

"Well, if you don't calm down, we're going to give you more medicine whether you like it or not." The nurse snapped. "Can you calm down on your own, or do I need to administer a sedative?" She said, raising the question seriously. She knew that she had a fighter on her hand, a smart, willful woman who wanted control, but she also knew what buttons to press.

That was when Brennan snapped her head to her friend and gritted her teeth. "If I can't go home, then I want Booth." She said definitively.

"I'll call him." Angela said, standing up. "Are you going to be alright?" Angela asked, half asking the nurse, she kept eye contact with her friend.

"No." She said through gritted teeth.

Temperance Brennan was never one to lie.

And with that simple word, Angela was on her way out of the door with her cell phone, Booth's number at her fingertips.


	12. Shadows Searching In the Night

Cam stepped through the lab quietly, glancing to the six bodies on the platform, she said a silent prayer for her colleague in the hospital. As she took the first step onto the platform, her eyes caught a light out of the corner of her eye. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she turned off the step and headed toward Brennan's office. When she reached the doorway, she found something that she didn't expect.

Booth was at Brennan's desk, rifling through papers in one of her desk drawers. His hair was disheveled and unkempt, and it looked like he hadn't slept in days. She cleared her throat, and his attention was suddenly on her. "Cam." He said, his voice displaying the surprise and confusion at her arrival. She crossed her arms over her chest. "What?"

"Why are you in here?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I know for a fact, that if Doctor Brennan knew that you were in here going through her things, she'd have you eviscerated."

"I don't know what that means." He mumbled, looking back down at the desk drawer he had open, he continued to go through its contents.

"Booth, what are you looking for?" Cam asked, stepping forward.

"I want more details about this assignment Bones was working on with Willis. I want to know who approved it, I want to know why she did it."

"You're not going to find that out from paperwork, Seeley." Cam replied. He ignored her as he shuffled through more papers, pulling out several files, he slapped them out on the desk and started to sift through them. "Seeley, are you listening to me?" She said again, noting that he wasn't. She stepped forward and slammed her hand down onto the pile of papers.

He looked up at her with an angry glare. "I am not in the mood, Camille." He growled.

"And I'm not going to allow you to invade Doctor Brennan's privacy. This is my lab, and this is Doctor Brennan's office. If you can't be respectful, you can leave."

"I am trying to figure out why the hell my partner was on an assignment without me." Booth growled.

"Have you asked her?" Cam asked, keeping her hand firmly on the papers.

"She won't tell me, even if I did."

"And why do you think that is?"

Booth didn't answer, he just looked up into Cam's dark eyes and narrowed his own. "You knew she was out on an assignment, didn't you?"

"Seeley, this isn't…"

"You knew! You knew that she was working with the FBI, you knew she wasn't working with me, and you didn't say a goddamned word to me about it!"

"The assignment was on a need to know basis, Booth. She was just contracting with the FBI, just like it says in the Jeffersonian's contract. I don't approve what assignments she works on, I just sign off on permission for her expertise to be used."

"But you knew she wasn't working with me."

"Seeley…"

"No." Booth said, standing up sharply. "You're right. It was a need to know basis. I didn't need to know anything." He shrugged sarcastically.

"Seeley."

"I have to go." Booth said, moving around the desk quickly, he headed for the door.

"Seeley, please." Cam said, grabbing his arm as he approached the door, he swung around and faced her. "Please tell me that you're not going to go do something stupid."

"How long have we known one another, Camille?" Booth asked, his angry glare was burning into her, and she could feel herself swallow the lump in her throat. Her hand dropped from his arm when his phone rang, and he glanced to his pocket and pulled the phone out. Still glaring at Cam, he mumbled his name into the line. "What's going on, Ange?" Booth asked. Cam could see the fear in his eyes, and the sharp stab of something Angela had said. "No." He said suddenly. "It's alright that you told her that, it's the truth, right? That's what she wants. She wants the truth. I'll be there in a few minutes." He sighed. "Take care of her for me."

"Seeley, was that about Doctor Brennan?" Cam asked, looking to Booth with a concerned expression.

"Sorry, Cam. That's on a need to know basis." He said, turning sharply on his heel, he walked from the office and into the lab. Booth stalked across toward the glass door, when he heard a voice behind him call to him. He turned around to see Hodgins coming toward him, and his stern glare softened. "Hey." He said, softly, noting the concern in the other man's eyes.

"How is Dr. B?" Hodgins asked, not waiting another moment before he asked the question.

"She's doing better… physically." Booth replied. "I think she's a little confused though, she's been through a lot."

"Angela said she's awake, she's talking." Hodgins swallowed.

"She is."

Hodgins let out a sigh that it seemed he had been holding for days. "Thank God." He said softly.

"Why haven't you been by to see her?" Booth asked, not accusing, but curious, he watched the defensive look rise on Hodgins' face before it softened.

"Ange said only one person at a time. I let her have my time too." He nodded. "Thank you." Hodgins said. "Thank you for keeping her in the loop, this has been really hard on her."

"She's Bones' closest friend, Hodgins. They need one another, and I know exactly how Angela feels, how you feel."

"Betrayal." Hodgins said, the emotion returning to his face as he tried to look stoic despite the emotions he was feeling. "I want to say it's betrayal, I want… to believe that's what it is, but it doesn't feel right, it doesn't seem fair to accuse her of that."

"I know." Booth nodded. "I'm sure we'll get our answers." Booth said, putting his hand on the other man's shoulder to show solidarity. "Are you alright?" Booth asked sincerely, noting that Hodgins seemed quite emotional right now.

"We almost lost her, man." Hodgins said softly, his voice cracking with emotion.

"But we didn't." Booth said, convincing himself as well. "We didn't. The best we can do right now is find out who did this." He said, knowing that the six victim's bodies were on the platform right now. "Can we do that?"

"Yeah." Hodgins said, brightening slightly. "Thanks, man."

"It's no problem." Booth said softly. "If you need anything, let me know."

"Same goes for you." Hodgins said, nodding as Booth gave him a supportive smile, and with a quick turn, he was marching quickly toward the exit of the lab.


	13. Changing Stations

The smell of smoke surrounded her, the pain in her body excruciating as she tried to move. She could feel her heartbeat pounding, hear it in her ears as the ringing screamed a horrendous shriek that cut through her eardrum like a razor's edge. She felt relief from the pressure on her chest, her mind swirling around the soothing voice in her ears.

_I'll never leave you again. I promise._

_Please don't die, I can't live if you die._

_Why, Bones? Why did you do this?_

The words were broken and sad, the tears dropping onto her skin burned through the soot that covered her body. She could feel his strong arms around her, supporting her, holding her, his lips against her hairline and a light, lofty feeling of being lifted from the ground. There was air beneath her and still the words in her mind.

_Don't move, Bones. _

_I'm here, I'm here, Bones. _

_Breathe._

_Breathe slowly. _

_Breathe._

She took short, ragged breaths as everything around her began to melt together, and realization began to shine through that this was simply a dream. The darkness that enveloped her was slowly lightening, and the pain dissipated. The heavy, dirty feeling washed clean, but his voice still wouldn't fade. It was strong and clear, tender and soft, the words melting together into her mind, burning into her memory as he chanted his demand softly in her ear.

She could feel his hand in hers, and though the heart monitor beeped in the background, the room felt nearly silent but for his voice. Her eyes flickered open, and she wished that the blur would fade quicker. She could see the shape of his face, and make out the color of his eyes, but she couldn't see if he was crying, she couldn't see the emotion in his face, she couldn't see his expression, just the dark brown orbs that he looked back at her with.

"Booth?" she managed to whisper, and he squeezed her hand in confirmation. His hands were no longer in heavy bandages. They were wrapped in thin gauze that protected the deeper cuts. She could feel the rough lines of the cuts in his skin against her hand.

"I met a man last night in the waiting room." Booth whispered softly, his face moving closer as if he knew that she couldn't see him. "His daughter…" Booth whispered, attempting to recover from the emotion that was threatening. "His daughter was killed in the blast, Bones." He said softly. "He's here, at the hospital, and he looked so broken."

Brennan watched her partner as he spoke, and she could feel the tension in his hand holding hers. She could hear the uncertainty of his voice. Her tongue darted out and wet her lips, remembering the warm, salty taste of his lips on hers when he tried to calm her the day before. He still hadn't told her about Hannah, and wondered for a moment if he ever would.

He'd have to tell her eventually.

"He's waiting for his daughter's fiancé to wake up." Booth replied. "So that he can tell him that she's gone." He said softly. He considered for a moment and swallowed hard, so hard that she could hear the saliva being pushed down his throat. "I never, ever want to be in either one of those positions, Bones. Never." He said, as he leaned forward and kissed her lips softly. "Can you see me?" He whispered.

She tried to reply, but couldn't find the words, her dry tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She simply managed a slight whimper, and a shake of her head.

"Is your vision still blurred?"

"Yes."

"When you're able to see clearly again, Bones. I just want to know why." He said softly. "I know that you can make your own decisions, and I know that you're a force of nature. But please consider how different things would have been if I hadn't been there that night. Understand what I am going through, and how there would have been no explanation for your family or your friends if you hadn't survived."

"Booth." She whimpered. She noted the wince on his face and realized that her grip on his hand was so tight that her knuckles were turning white. She moved to release her grip, and was met by his grip onto her fingers.

"I went to your office looking for answers, but I realized that you're the only person who can tell me what happened."

"I…"

"Not now." He shook his head. His hand slowly smoothed the stray hair near her temple. "When this is over… when you're out of the hospital, when you've had time to think."

There was a knock on the door, and a nurse stepped inside. Booth brought her fingers to his lips, kissed her knuckles and looked up. "There is an Agent Willis out here that would like to visit with Ms. Brennan."

Brennan didn't have to be able to see clearly to visualize the click of Booth's jaw, or the straightening of his spine. She didn't have to be able to see to know of the fire in his eyes, and the catch in his breath. "I'll take care of this." Booth said, standing up, he leaned down to kiss her tenderly. "Angela told me that she told you the truth. I'm sorry that you didn't hear it from me." He whispered into her eyes, praying that she'd be able to see him, if only for a split second of clarity.

"I'm sorry." She replied, her words echoing into silence as he quickly turned and disappeared from the room, leaving her to listen to the loud click of the door as he stepped out into the hallway.


	14. Lying Beside You, Here In The Dark

Booth stepped out of the hospital room prepared for war, but armed with nothing more than his bare hands and a heart full of anger and resentment. The moment Willis saw Booth step out of the room, he straightened, his eyes full of sympathy as he recognized the raw anger that emanated from the other man. "Booth."

"You knew that I was going to be here." Booth said immediately. "Don't pretend that you didn't."

"You know that I had no intention on…"

"How is your partner?" Booth asked, keeping his stare directly on the other man's eyes, burning into them as if he were trying to melt the man in front of him with just a simple stare.

"She's recovering." Willis replied. "Doctor Brennan, is she…?"

"She's not taking any guests, only family." The word dropped from his lips as he thought of the woman in the next room. If anyone were his family, it would be her. She was 'his' family, and it pained him at the moment that she could possibly question his place in her life.

"I'd like to see her." Willis replied.

"Only family." Booth replied, his eyes resolute and unwavering, narrowing at the other man.

"That's bullshit. The nurse said that I could…"

"She is sleeping." Booth said, not caring that the other man could see right through his ploy.

"Booth, just move the hell out of the way. I want to talk to Doctor Brennan."

He remained steadfast in blocking the door, his cold stare was enough to unnerve Willis slightly, but he knew they were in a hospital. If Booth took a swing, he'd most certainly be carted away by security. "And I want world peace. Neither one of those things will be happening today. She'll get back to you when she's feeling better."

Willis moved close to Booth, lowering his voice so that the conversation stayed between the two of them. "Why don't you just go find your little blonde floozy, and fuck around with her, and let me take care of Doctor Brennan? She told you to get lost, don't you remember?" Willis grunted.

Booth remained calm, and even he couldn't understand how he was able to. The look in the other man's eyes were taunting, and there was no fear within his gaze, just simple pride and cockiness that Booth was more than ready to beat out of the other man. He knew himself that if he were to begin a physical altercation between the two of them, that he'd be escorted out of the hospital, and there was no way that was going to happen today. "Willis." Booth growled. "You and I are very, very different people. Agent Bartlett… your partner? She was shot because you were too goddamned chicken to take the bullet for her. If she had been my partner, I'd have stepped in front of that bullet in a heartbeat. When that bomb went off, I went into that building, and you turned the other way. You shouldn't just be ashamed to carry that badge, you should be ashamed of being a member of the human race." Booth snarled. "I would kill for her, and I would die for her… and there is no fucking way that I am going to allow you to walk into that hospital room. Do you understand that, Willis?"

"I just wanted to check on her, Booth. There is no reason for you to be an asshole."

"Send her some fucking flowers, asswipe. She doesn't want to see you." Booth said. He turned his attention to the nurse. "Ma'am. This man isn't on Doctor Brennan's visitor list. He's going to leave on his own, but feel free to call security if he gives you any problems." He said, turning for the door, he slipped back into Brennan's room, and let it close solidly behind him.

* * *

His first glance was to the bed, and he watched Brennan's head turn. She looked concerned, but not surprised by the way he had entered the room. She said nothing to him, and allowed him to calm himself from what appeared to have been a very difficult moment.

"I don't want to see him." She whispered. He focused on her eyes and her trembling lips, and watched a tear roll down her cheek. "I don't want to see anyone." She continued to look toward him, and he knew that she couldn't see him clearly. She simply knew that he was there.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No." She replied immediately, her brow furrowed in discontent. "No." She stated much softer. She paused for a moment. "Has anyone spoken to my father?"

"We haven't found Max yet." Booth replied.

"My brother?"

"Russ is in California with Amy and the girls. We told him about what happened, and he said that he'd be here as soon as he could."

Her voice caught in her throat.

Where was her family?

"You're here." She whispered.

"I'm here." He replied, stepping close to the bed. "Angela. Hodgins."

"He hasn't been here."

"No, but he sends Angela in his place, he knows that she needs to see you, so he's given up his time for her. He'll see you when you're in a regular room. You said you don't want to see anyone, Bones."

"Sweets?"

"He has been here, but you've been asleep. Cam has asked about you. We're all worried about you." He said, running the pad of his thumb over the tear on her cheek, he felt the warm liquid soak into his skin. "We all love you, Bones."

"I want to go home." She whimpered, closing her eyes, as she allowed her sobs to quietly shake her. Without a word, he pulled her to him as best as he could, kissing her head softly as his fingers trailed through her hair.

"I want to go home too." He whispered against her tenderly, kissing her again and again, she gripped his shirt tightly as he held her.

* * *

After several minutes of just holding her in his arms, her sobs slowed, and her grip loosened on his t-shirt. She let him hold her until she began to get sleepy again. The medication was coursing through her body at a rapid pace, and she wished that she could catch up with it. "I didn't know about Hannah." She whispered.

"There's nothing to know." He replied, kissing her head.

"She left you."

"It doesn't matter, Bones."

"It matters." She whimpered. "Please tell me it matters. Please tell me that you love her."

"Bones, stop."

"No." She said, breathing in short, shallow breaths. "Tell me."

"Bones, please."

"If you didn't love her, then all of this happened for nothing." She exclaimed, pressing her face into his arm, she let the dam come crumbling down.


	15. Feeling Your Heartbeat With Mine

Booth held her to him while she cried tears of pain into his arm, and he carefully threaded his fingers through her hair. With each deep breath came a heart wrenching sob that threatened to break him into pieces. He wished that he could tell her not to cry, and he wished that he wasn't the reason for her pain, but he knew the truth. He knew that they were both to blame for the emotional roller coaster that they were currently riding on, and he knew that the brakes had long since disappeared, scraped away and burned off by ignoring the obvious, and embracing the fleeting moments of the present.

He could feel her body trembling against him, her sobs making her gasp for air while he simply held her against him, kissing the top of her head. He whispered to her that he would let her cry, knowing that she seldom allowed her feelings into the fresh air around them. He rocked her ever so gently, ensuring that he didn't cause her any more physical pain than what she was already in.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, trying to catch her breath, gasping slightly. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing." He whispered against her. "It's alright. We're going to figure all of this out, Bones. We need to stop this for a moment, stop trying to move ahead when we're so far behind."

She gasped against his skin, her tears trailing down the downy hair that covered his arm. She gasped again. "I am selfish."

"You are not selfish." He whispered. "You're not selfish."

"I am. I am selfish, and I cause pain. I hurt you on the steps, I hurt you by leaving for Maluku, I hurt you by doing this, by getting caught up in this. I hurt you by lying to you, I hurt you by causing Hannah to leave. I hurt you by all of this. I hurt you."

"I couldn't have been hurt if I didn't already love you." He whispered.

"But you love Hannah." She sniffled. "You do." She said, pushing from his arm to attempt to look into his eyes. She imagined how sharp they had been, through the blur of her vision, through the pain in her head, the constant ringing in her ears. She could see his eyes focused on hers. "You love her… she left, and now you feel pain."

"I loved the idea of Hannah, Bones. She was a beautiful, smart, strong woman. She wanted me, and I wanted her. She was someone that I loved, yes." He said, seeing the pain in her eyes. "But I loved you first, you know. Before all of this, I loved you, Bones. I couldn't have been hurt by all of this if I didn't love you. If I didn't still love you, I wouldn't have gone into that building to pull you out." He said, holding his hand to her, he took her fingertips in his, and carefully ran them over the painful cuts on his hands. "I wouldn't have risked my own life, my own body if I didn't love you, Bones."

"I don't deserve it." She said, rolling to the side slightly, she turned from him. "I don't deserve anything from you, from anyone."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself." He said.

The words had escaped his lips before he had a chance to check them, and as soon as they were spoken, he knew that he should have taken a different approach. She wasn't facing him, but it didn't matter, for her silence was enough of a shock to his system. He wanted to apologize for speaking those words, but knew that they were the truth, and if anyone wanted the truth, fed on the truth, hungered for the truth, it was Temperance Brennan.

"Do you want me to go?" He whispered.

"No." Her simple response was soft and tender, though the hurt that was laced with her response was clear.

"I am selfish too, you know." He said, hoping that his words would start the healing instead of causing new wounds, fresher wounds, deeper wounds. "I took what you said to me to heart, and I shouldn't have. I took your words literally, and your rejection personally." He could see that she was staring off at nothing in front of her, and thought that if it were possible to hear the interworking of someone's brain, that right then, it would fill the room with an incredible clatter. He touched her arm, his palm lying flat against her cool skin, he could see the goose bumps lift from his touch. Gently, he rubbed her arm, and leaned forward to kiss her temple.

"Why are you doing this now?" She whispered.

"Doing what?" He asked, his lips still close to her ear, she continued to stare into nothingness.

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Because I'm angry with you." He replied. He watched as her head turned toward him, and knew that though she couldn't see him clearly, that she was trying. She looked concerned, and a bit scared, rolling onto her back. "We're supposed to be partners, Bones. Above all that, we're supposed to be friends."

"If we weren't partners, we wouldn't be friends."

"If we had never been partners, maybe we would have never met, but if we ever stop being partners, Bones. You would always be my friend. You'll always be the person I trust above anyone."

She could hear the passion in his voice, and wasn't sure if it was anger or love speaking at this moment. She thought to herself how anger and love were born from the same thing, they were both born of passion, and she was now trying to ascertain which side of the coin he was showing her.

"Where do we go from here?" She whispered.

"We have plenty of time to figure this all out."

"I am tired." She admitted, swallowing hard as she continued to struggle to see him clearly. "I'm so tired. My head hurts." She whispered. "My ears won't stop ringing."

"Use the morphine if you have to, Bones. Don't be afraid to make yourself feel better."

"No." She said softly, opening her eyes she tried to focus on his eyes, and all she could see were the darkness of them. She imagined she could see the concern in them, the pain, and she took a sharp breath. "I don't want to mask how I'm feeling. I want control."

"I understand. Just rest, okay?" He said, happy to again see her eyes staring back at him. "Just lay back and rest." He whispered, leaning up to kiss her forehead. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Her eyes closed after a moment, and she rested for what could have been a minute, or several hours, and shifted in the darkness of the room. Everything seemed silent, or louder, she couldn't tell which and suddenly, she could feel a sense of fear rising in her chest as she grasped around her looking for him.

He had promised he'd be there when she woke up.

"Bones?" Booth's voice was alert, and very close to her, as she turned her head to face the sound of his voice, and saw nothing. "What's wrong, Bones?"

"I can't see, Booth." She whispered, feeling that even her whispered voice was far too loud in the darkness that had swallowed her so suddenly. "I can't see anything."


	16. Softly You Whisper, You're So Sincere

The moments following Brennan's exclamation seemed to swirl and twist together like a tornado's wind. There was a moment of calm, a moment of complete and total calm that almost seemed to stop time, before that inevitable wall of panic hit with all of the force of a speeding train.

"What do you mean you can't see?" Booth asked, looking at her face, she was looking right at him.

"I mean that I can't see." She paused. "Anything."

"Don't panic." He whispered, though she was certain that was a directive for himself and not for her, as she felt his hand on her face. It was warm on her face, and she could feel his breath across her cheek as he pressed his cheek against hers, the sound of the nurses button clicking again and again was echoing in her mind as she wrapped her arm up onto his shoulder and let him hold her for a moment.

He heard a voice over the intercom, and it didn't matter what they were saying, he simply stated that they needed help. His plea was calm and tender, and almost as if he were simply asking for a cup of coffee, or ketchup for his French fries. He had no intention of causing her more alarm than he already knew she was feeling, he had no intention of causing her any more pain. "Booth." Her voice was whimpered through her lips like a child asking for reassurance.

"I've got you." He whispered.

The nurses ran into the room, forcing him to step back as they questioned her about various things, her pain, the pressure in her head, and vocally questioned why she didn't speak up sooner. She felt chastised and belittled for a moment, before she realized they were simply panicking just as she was, just as she assumed Booth was.

Tests, more tests were needed, and possibly surgery to relieve the pressure. There were other signs and a thick nauseous feeling that rose not from her gut, but somewhere deeper, possibly her soul. She could see only darkness, hear the questions being posed to her time and again as the ringing in her ears failed to cease. Through it all, she heard his voice, stern and alert, trying desperately not to absolutely and totally slip into a whirlwind of panic. The words he had spoken moments before echoed in her mind.

Don't panic.

The nurse's voices were alert but knowledgeable as they spoke of getting the doctor on call immediately. Brennan could feel her skin burning with each movement, the cuts and abrasions on her skin still raw, but her body felt so heavy. She squeezed her hand, and could feel the strength of his grip still holding hers.

She could feel the butterflies in her stomach becoming more urgent, more overt, larger, fluttering their invisible wings harder against her insides. Her brain was burning with pain, but she felt more concerned about the man standing at her side than anything that was going on in her body. Then she thought, her mind catching up with her for a moment.

What if I die?

The butterflies turned into full bodied eagles, battering her insides as she pulled at his arm. Unseeing and uncaring, she felt his body come nearer to her. She could smell him, feel him, almost taste him. Her hand pressed down firmly against his chest, and she swore that she could feel his heart beating through the fabric.

"What is it, Bones?"

"I don't want to die without telling you that I love you." She said in a whisper. She couldn't see his face, but she could feel his breath on her face. She could taste his lips as they collided with hers, and the cold air between them as he pulled away. Her hands gripped his shirt, and she pulled him hard into her, pressing her lips against his, she could feel the adrenaline that she craved coursing through her body as she pushed her tongue into his mouth. He returned her kiss for a moment, and the pain in her head seemed to disappear, or perhaps it was so intense right at that moment, she didn't even notice. When he separated from her, she felt the butterflies calm, and for a moment all she could taste was him. "I'm sorry that I hurt you."

"You're not going to die, Bones." He whispered. "And I am sorry that I hurt you."

It was as if the moment was suddenly stolen, when they carted her from the room, pulling the bed quickly as they forced her from the room to run tests to find what had gone wrong, why she had lost her sight, and how they would get it back.

He stood and watched as her bed pulled from the room, left with the emptiness of that hollow space once filled by the one person that truly understood him. Her words echoed off the walls of his mind.

'I don't want to die without telling you that I love you'

She can't die.

Booth rubbed his face with his hands, hoping to rub the exhaustion and worry from his mind and expression, but he knew there was absolutely no chance for that to happen. Resignedly, he made his way to the darkened room across the hallway, the waiting place. The place where family and friends went, to hold onto their hopes and memories in an attempt to force reality from beating them down. He sat in a chair in the dim room, resting his head in his hand, he finally allowed himself to feel.

A sharp pain pierced his heart, and a knot in his stomach began to grow, as he tasted the lips of the woman he love, and sent out a silent prayer to a God he wasn't sure existed at that given moment. Everything was happening so quickly, and love and life seemed fleeting. All he needed was just another second with her, but what he prayed for, was the opportunity for a lifetime with her.


	17. How Could Our Love Be So Blind?

The time that passed between Brennan being carted from the room, and returned back could have been an hour, two hours, or two weeks. It didn't matter to Booth, for as long as it did take, it simply felt like forever. He had tried pacing, sitting, standing, staring out the window, but there was nowhere in the room, or the hospital that he could find solace.

He considered going to the hospital chapel, to pray for his partner's recovery, to beg that she be given a chance despite the unknown that waited idly in both of their futures. He then thought again to the blatant absurdity of that venture. The clichéd visit to the chapel would only prove to him that he had given up hope, that he was willing to let his fears rest in the arms of something that his partner would refer to as his 'invisible friend'. Instead he held those fears in his own heart, in his own soul, and refused to give his hope to someone else. He felt he had earned this particular selfishness, and intended on remaining true to his own reality.

He sat in the chair in the room and rested his head in his hands, his palms warm from his fists clenching again and again. Her words echoed in his mind, and the salty taste of her lips lingered on his own. His tongue darted across his lips as if the memory of her touch had lingered since she were last in the room. He simply continued doing what he had been doing.

Waiting.

* * *

Her ears were still ringing, but the intensity had tapered, and her head throbbed with each and every beat of her heart. She could sense his presence before she was even aware of herself, his energy forced across the room, bouncing from the walls. She wasn't sure for a moment if she was moving or not, and her body felt so heavy. She tried to swallow, feeling tightness in her throat, her mind started to race.

She couldn't remember being intubated. She couldn't remember much of anything. Her mind flashed in fireworks of white pain and light. She could feel herself panicking. Her heart pounding in her ears was becoming faster and angrier with each passing moment. She could hear voices around her, not panicked voices, but soothing voices. She could feel Booth's hand touching hers, but couldn't find the strength to wake, to move, to do anything other than struggle to breathe. She tried to breathe in and felt like she was choking, the obstruction in her throat was foreign and though her mind was trying to run through what had happened. There were more flashes of pain, and her gag reflex was kicking in, pressing against her throat, she couldn't move to relieve the pressure on her chest, or remove the object that was obstructing her airway. She tried to open her eyes, but saw darkness, her head seemingly bound to keep the darkness in. She wanted to struggle but found that it was too taxing. She wanted to call out, to ask for help, for someone to pull the tube from her throat so that she could breathe.

She heard noises around her through the ringing in her ears, machines and monitors, and time seemed to slip in and out, voices fading in and out. She tried to remember why she was here, why she was even in the hospital, what had happened. There was only one clear thing that she was aware of, and that was the presence of the man holding tightly to her hand.

They had brought her into the room post surgery, his eyes lighting up enough to know that she was alive, but his heart sinking into his stomach the moment he saw her. Her head was wrapped in a bandage, her eyes covered by pieces of gauze to protect them from the light. They explained the procedure, and what had occurred in the operating room, explaining that there was increased pressure that had caused the loss of vision. They said that by locating the bleed in her skull, and relieving that pressure, that her vision should return. The gauze was as a precaution, for they explained that her eyes would be especially sensitive when she finally woke up.

She had been intubated during the surgery, and it was explained that the tube would be removed shortly. She was breathing on her own, but as a precaution, they had decided to keep the tube in for a short time. He was on his best behavior, and watched the procedures and check up with a cautionary silence. He tried to understand the medical jargon as best as he could, but when it all came down to it, all he needed to know was that she was alive, and she was breathing. The only thing he didn't want to ask, and refused to think about as he sat down and held her hand securely in his, was…

When will she wake up?

* * *

She felt like the beeping in the room was keeping in time with her head pounding, and the cloud of confusion that was veiling her thoughts was thick, but penetrating. Her body still felt heavy, as if something was draped over her, holding her to the bed. She could breathe easier now than she could earlier, the tube had been removed, and had offered her the freedom of her own breath. For that, she was grateful. However, the residual effect of the intubation tube was ever present as a sharp scratching pain in the back of her throat. It was irritating at first, and she swallowed again and again hoping to reach it, and stop the pain, eventually succumbing to the fact that at least she could feel something.

Her hand felt heaviest, a tight grasp holding her fingers was warm against her skin. She tried again to recall what had happened, and why she was lying here with her partner's hand in hers. She remembered the explosion, the moments before it. She remembered the color of the bathroom walls, the twisting in the pit of her stomach. She remembered his face, from their dance on the dancing floor, and her words to him.

'Get lost.'

But she couldn't remember anything more, or remember if what she was thinking had actually happened or was part of a larger dream. She remembered clearly telling Willis to tell Booth to get lost. She had sights and sounds of other things, but in her middle mind she couldn't recall what had really happened, and what hadn't happened. She was awake, if only for a split second, long enough to feel his lips touch her skin on her hand. The gentle kiss was small and innocent, but enough to make her heart flutter in her chest for a moment. Her eyes opened slightly against the gauze that covered them, just enough for her to feel the sharp pain of the light coming through the tiny holes in the material. She remembered that she had woken up, but couldn't remember not being able to see. Her stomach twisted again, and suddenly she was filled with that sense of panic, the same sense of panic she had just a moment before the explosion. It was the sense that something big was about to happen, and that nothing was going to be the same.


	18. We Sailed on Together

He heard her voice before he opened his eyes, and smiled at the sound that tickled his ears as he sat up slightly in his chair. His hand was already in hers, slowly running across her skin, even as he slept restlessly at her side. She whispered his name again and again. It was low and repetitive, and her lips were barely moving. Her chest pushed the word out again and again, and her tongue finally settled between her teeth, and she let the last two letters of his name slide together as if she were practicing speech.

"Bones?" He whispered, allowing the dry raspy sound of his voice escape his lips. "Bones, can you hear me?" He asked. She stopped, slipping her tongue back into her mouth and closing it as if she wanted to pretend that she hadn't been speaking. He wasn't sure if she was awake, or if she was simply dreaming, and watched as her mouth opened slightly. "Bones, it's me." He said softly.

He waited for her to respond some way, to know that she was responsive was all that he wanted, to know that she was awake after the doctor's insistence that anything could happen at this point. Her brain had been swollen, the pressure against her skull had been immense, and for all he knew, she'd never wake from the sleep she was currently in. He felt a rush of panic lift in his chest, as his thumb moved over her hand again and again. "Bones, please?" He whispered, his voice was nearly begging. He remembered far too clearly that the risk was very high for brain damage, that she might not ever be the person she was before. Memory loss, blindness, paralysis, all of these things were possible, and that was only the top of the list of things that could go wrong. "Bones." He whispered again, before the silence around the machines filled the room again, and he settled back in his chair.

His attention was focused on her for another moment, and thought for a moment that perhaps he had imagined hearing her voice, when he heard it again. It was low, starting in her throat, raspy and ever so soft.

"Booth."

The word was clear, and he squeezed her hand, feeling an intense sense of both relief and panic well up inside of him. He lifted her fingers to his lips, kissing them softly, and waited for any other indication that she would awaken. He couldn't see her eyes, the bandages that covered them were thick, and protective against the brightness of the room. He heard nothing more, at least not for a while, and continued his vigil silently.

* * *

She was awake, awake enough to feel his touch. She was awake enough to know the warmth of his hand, and yet so exhausted. She felt heavy and pressed into the mattress, as if she were being held down by something other than the simple weight of her own body. Her chest felt heavy, and again the ringing was loud and exhausting. The rushing of blood through her head was like a speeding train, loud and intrusive, there was little else to concentrate on, and the flashes of white pain were blinding in the veil of darkness that she was currently in.

She could feel his thumb moving, rubbing, prickling her skin on her hand as it slid repeatedly over it again and again. She could feel his breath on her skin, his head resting on the bed, he was sleeping from the rate of his breaths, but still his hand continued its tender sliding over her skin. She wanted to call to him, to tell him she knew he was there, but there seemed to be a disconnect between her mind and her throat. She could hear his name in her mind, see his face there too, but the simple task of communicating was both painful and nearly impossible. She attributed it to the drugs, perhaps morphine or something stronger to help with the burns and the effects of the explosion.

Her mind switched from that to her current state of being. Lying there, she could only think of the explosion, feel the heat, hear the sound again and again as she felt her heart begin to race. She tried to control her breathing, but like her words, it was more difficult than she had remembered. She wanted to cry, simply allow the tears to roll down her cheeks. She thought of how she felt when she had watched him in that coma after his surgery, how her fingers flew over the keyboard just so she'd have an excuse not to look up at his still and silent form. She knew that's how he was feeling now, though probably worse if he had been told the truth of why she was in that club. She didn't want him to feel that pain, that regret, and though she knew that he had someone now that he loved, that he'd still need to know that she was going to be alright. He had loved her then, that day on the steps of the Hoover. He didn't say the words, but from his reaction it was clear. She needed to tell him that she was alive, that she was okay. She needed it so badly, that when she imagined his face in her mind, she pictured herself saying his name, just his name. Nothing more.

The sound of her voice was foreign to her, it sounded rough and wrong in her own ears, and she felt his head lift from its place beside her hand. She wanted to say more, but his name was stuck on her lips, and it whispered from her mouth again and again. She tried to stop herself, tried to say more, but her mind simply paused. She could feel her tongue in her mouth, pressed between her teeth as air escaped around it, hissing into the stale hospital air.

She then heard his voice, whispering his name for her in a sleepy tone that made her picture his hair tousled and messy, his eyes filled with concern. She wanted to say more but found the task to be too exhausting. She wanted to go to sleep. He whispered her name again, and again. His hand that was holding hers was tighter and his thumb moved more rapidly.

All she could feel was the pain in her head, and the rapid pushing of his thumb into her skin, all she could hear was his voice, desperate and begging with each repetition. She wanted to cry. She could feel his pain, she just wanted to cry. She felt him move in his chair, his begging ceased as the absence of his voice burned her ears.

She had felt relieved that she had been able to say his name, to let him know she was alright, but also felt that she had let him down. He had wanted her to be awake, not simply say his name. He needed her to be okay, and rambling in a semi-conscious state was not the way to reassure someone. She concentrated on the vision of him, his dark brown eyes, that crooked smile that always seemed to get anything it wanted. She focused on his heart, and how broken she knew it was right now, and how broken her own heart was.

"Booth."

The sound of her own voice frightened her, though it was raspy and soft, it was clearly what she had intended. It was like a cloud had been lifted from her mind momentarily, but shifted back into place the moment she had said his name. She could sense the energy in his movements, and she felt her hand lift slowly, his warm kiss tenderly pressing into her flesh.

She felt her cheeks become warm, and his action seemed oddly romantic in gesture. Her mind scrambled for a reason for such a gesture, her thoughts racing as she tried to remember their last conversation. Words mixed with words, situations mixed with scenarios, and she tried to catch up to her own thoughts before they ran off without her. Her panic was setting in as the darkness beckoned, and just as quickly as she had found herself awake, she drifted back into the dreamless darkness of her own mind.


	19. We Drifted Apart

The dosage of pain medication must have been wearing off, or perhaps they were giving her less, for this time it wasn't a gentle touch or voice that woke her, but the jackhammer pounding inside of her skull. She let out a pain filled moan, only heard slightly over the ringing in her ears. She flexed her hand and found it empty. She tried to focus on speaking, but her mouth was so dry that her tongue stuck like plaster to the roof of her mouth. Her throat felt swollen, and again and again, she swallowed nothing, as if she were simply trying to force her throat to work by exercising it.

She could see light through the gauze on her eyes, just a little sliver of light, but enough to make the intensity of her headache all the more intense. Her breaths were short and shallow, and burned with each intake of breath. She had words at the tip of her tongue, but couldn't speak them, and as each second passed, she felt herself panicking a little more. She made a guttural sound, a sharp breath, and turned her head slowly. Her hand lifted and she pulled at the gauze on her face, wanting to see, needing to see.

She was alone now, nobody was watching her, nobody was at her side. She was alone. She panicked as she numbly tore at the gauze on her eyes, allowing the light to burn them. Her vision was impaired, cloudy at best, and the pain in her head was so intense, tears sprang to her eyes. She didn't care, all she needed was to prove to herself, that she was indeed, alone. The door opened slowly, but she didn't notice. Her hand was at her face, her fingers beneath the gauze covering as she pulled weakly.

"Oh…" A woman's voice seemed nervous as she approached her. "Oh, no hun… don't do that." She said, taking Brennan's hand in hers, the nurse pulled her hand away. "It's okay." She whispered. "Don't panic, just calm down…" She said in a soothing voice.

Brennan knew she was in a hospital, and how she had gotten there, that much was clear, but everything else was blank, everything else was just an empty slate that frightened her, confused her. She let the nurse carefully tend to her, talking in a soft voice, Brennan couldn't concentrate on her words. She had no strength to fight her.

"Why?" She managed to whisper, holding her hand to her face, her voice dry and cracking. "Why?" She wanted to say more, but her lips simply wouldn't form the words, so she settled on simplicity.

"Sweetheart, do you know where you are?" The nurse asked softly.

"Yes. Hospital." She said simply.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Tem…Tem…" She stammered, frustrated that mind was supplying the words, but her lips simply wouldn't accept them. Instead, her mind settled on another memory. His hand in hers. She turned her head just slightly. "Booth?" She whispered.

"You're looking for your friend." The nurse said, listening for the hum of affirmation from her patient. "He is in the waiting room, dear. He's speaking with your brother right now. I'm going to go get the doctor. We're going to do a few more tests. I'll also tell your friend you're asking for him." The nurse said, listening again for her hum in the affirmative. "I'll go get the doctor. Can I get you anything?" She whispered.

Brennan opened her mouth slightly, licked her lips to indicate her immense need for something to quench her thirst, knowing that the words she wanted to speak would probably not be clear.

"Let me get you some ice chips, sweetheart. I will be right back." She said, touching Brennan's hand softly, before she exited the room again.

She listened to the silence in the room, the way her ears were ringing, head pounding, she felt like the inter-workings of a bell. She felt a pit in her stomach and a quick burst of desperation, as her loneliness welled in her chest. A sob escaped her lips, and in her solitude she began to quickly tear apart at the seams.

* * *

Russ and Amy sat with Booth in the waiting room that was set aside for families of those in the intensive care unit. The more Booth spoke, the angrier Russ was getting. Booth could feel the tension in the room thickening. The frustration emanated from the other man as he held his head in his hands, slouched over staring at his knees.

"How did this happen, Booth?" Russ asked, sitting up, he glared angrily at the other man. "How did this happen?" He whispered. Amy sat at his side and touched his arm, feeling the tension in his body.

"Russ, Bones is strong."

"She's strong." Russ said, nodding his head, looking away from the other man. "Hell, yeah, she's strong." He said, his nod quickly turning to a shake. His hand wiped over his face as he tried to remain calm. "She's strong just like Mom was strong." He said, staring at the floor, his chest heaving with anger.

"Russ." Booth said, seeing where the conversation was going, he needed to stop it before it ended in fisticuffs.

"Mom is dead, Booth." Russ said, turning his glare to the FBI agent beside him, he sat up in his chair. "Mom was strong like Tempe, and Mom is dead." He said, standing suddenly. "Where the hell were you?" He said, raising his voice a bit, he still held back.

"Russ." Amy said, trying to calm him, she remained sitting.

Booth also stood, holding his hand out in a defensive motion. He attempted to calm the other man, if only so that things wouldn't get out of hand. "Russ, I'm telling you. I was just outside the club when the explosion went off. We were in contact with Bones, when the bomb went off."

"When the bomb went off." Russ said. "When the bomb went off, you were safe in an FBI van, and my sister was lying in that club, dying!" Russ exclaimed.

"Russ, keep your voice down, or they're going to make you leave." Booth said, lowering his voice to ensure that his own temper didn't get the best of him. Russ was beginning to try his patience, and all he wanted to do was get back to Brennan, to make sure she didn't wake up alone.

"They can't make me leave." Russ grunted. "She's my sister… I don't even get why you're here, why I wasn't contacted earlier? Why wasn't I contacted when it first happened?"

"Russ, you were out of town, we couldn't find you, and when we did, we tried to get you here as soon as we could."

"Right, and I get here, and between the FBI guard she has outside her room, and the fact that she had emergency brain surgery, I haven't even been able to see her, Booth. It has been nine days since this happened, Booth. Nine days."

While Booth could have pointed out that yes, it had been nine days, and he knew that because he had been at her bedside for each and every one of those days, he chose to take the higher road. "And she's not awake yet, Russ. You need to calm down." Booth said softly.

"Calm down? Calm down?" Russ exclaimed. "Are you kidding me? I can't calm down! My baby sister is lying in that room half dead because the stupid FBI made her take more risks than she's trained for!" He shouted. "She's a goddamned scientist, Booth! She's not a cop!"

Booth put his hand on the other man's arm, eying him carefully, he gritted his teeth. "I know that, Russ."

Russ calmed slightly. "Why did you even let her get into a situation like this, Booth? I still don't understand why you weren't in the club with her."

"Because I wasn't on that case, Russ. I didn't know she was there until I saw her on the dance floor. She was undercover with another agent. I told you all of this already."

"I thought you were partners." Russ snapped.

"She doesn't work for me, Russ. She works with me… and we are partners, but she was working with another agent on this."

"And you couldn't talk her out of it." Russ glared.

"I didn't know." Booth said, the reality of what Brennan had done was starting to grate his last nerve, and Russ was not helping. "I didn't know she had another case. She didn't tell me."

Russ could see the betrayal in Booth's eyes, the fear he had for his sister, and the pain he was feeling because of all that was happening. Seeing that pain calmed him slightly, and he focused on Booth in an attempt to calm himself.

The door to the waiting room opened, and a nurse stepped inside, looking directly to Booth. "Mr. Booth? Temperance is asking for you." She said, noting the blanched look on the man's face.

"She's awake?"

"Yes, sir. The doctor is just finishing their exam, and she seemed pretty shaken. She's asked for you several times."

"I'll be right there." He said, watching the sad smile on the nurse's face, she turned and stepped out of the room. He turned back to Russ, watching his eyes move from the nurse and focus on him again. "I'm going to go in and check on her, and see what the doctor says. I've been here for all of it, okay? If she's asking for someone, that's good…" Booth said, speaking sincerely to Russ as he watched the other man nod. "I will get you as soon as I can, okay?"

"I need to see her, Booth." Russ said, his voice trembling.

"I know. I'll let her know you're here… and that you need to see her… and we'll talk." He said, taking a step toward the door. "Amy, keep him sane." Booth said, watching Amy nod with a sad smile. "I'll be back soon…" He said, holding his hand out, it was the first time Russ had seen the thin bandages over the other man's hands. He wanted to ask, but didn't want to keep him any longer. So with a quick turn, Booth slipped out the doorway and into the hall.

* * *

Booth stepped warily toward the room, the nurse standing outside of the room was writing on the chart and looked up at him. "The doctor will be in to talk to you in a couple minutes." The nurse said with a half smile.

"Thank you." He said, opening the door, he stepped back into the sterile bubble of an intensive care room, his eyes on the form in the bed, lying motionless. He approached her slowly, and feared for a moment that he'd startle her.

"Booth." Her voice whispered, turning her head.

"Bones." He said, frowning at her bandaged eyes, he watched her hand lift slightly, her finger moving in almost a beckoning motion. She looked so small and pale lying in the bed, and her movements were limited and so weak. He stepped to the bed and lifted her hand with his, warming her cool fingertips with his closed hand, he brought her fingertips to his lips, and kissed them tenderly. "Can you hear me?" He asked.

"Yes." She whispered weakly, there was a pause. "Booth?" She whispered.

"Hm?" He said softly, running his thumb over her skin as he kissed her hand again. Her fingers moved in his hand, and her fingertips slipped beneath the bandage on his hand. Her lips curled to a frown, and she let out a slight whimper. "What's wrong, Bones?" He whispered.

She tugged at the bandage slightly, and sucked in a deep breath. He imagined that if he could see her eyes, that her brow would be furrowed. "How?" She whispered, letting her breath slide quickly from her lips as if a sigh had gotten away from her. "Why?" She whimpered.


	20. Here You Are By My Side

The moment just seemed to stop. There was nothing in that split second that her question slipped through her lips, and the pause was long and filled with a dark and frightening angst. He didn't know what to say, and didn't even know what to do, just staring at her fingertips as they tucked beneath the light bandages on his hand, her skin poking the tender flesh of the cuts that had sliced his hand.

"Booth?" She whispered hoarsely. Her hand pulled from his and reached for the bandages on her eyes.

"Bones, no." He said softly touching her hand. He slipped his fingertips around hers, and gently pulled her hand from her face. "Don't… don't pull at your bandages."

"Need…"

"You don't need to see me, Bones." He said, crouching down closer to her, he took her hand and pressed it close to his face, and touched his other cheek to hers. "You know what I look like."

The closeness to him felt odd, and while she wanted to describe it as 'wrong', she couldn't help but feel comforted by his touch, his closeness. He held her like that, cheek to cheek for several moments, before he turned his head and dropped a tender kiss on her cheekbone, just below her bandages. She felt his hand on hers, pressing into his face a little harder. "I can't remember." She stammered, feeling a sharp pang of guilt in her chest.

"You trust me to tell you the truth."

"Yes."

"You wouldn't question what I tell you?"

"No." Her whispered response was resolute and strong. It was clearer than anything else she had spoken.

"You've been here for nine days." He began. He could feel her chest heave at a sharp intake of breath, and a slight sob choked from between her lips.

"Don't remember." She whimpered.

"You remember the explosion?" He whispered.

"Yes."

"I have been here for nine days." He said. She pushed at his hand and reached for the bandages on her eyes again. "Bones, don't… it's protecting your…"

"Need to look at you."

"Not right now." He whispered. "Not until I talk to the doctor, okay? We can let the doctor take the bandages off. You're the patient here. You need to follow directions." He said softly, pulling her hand to his lips again, he kissed her fingers. "I found you after the explosion. I pulled you from the rubble, I carried you to safety." He replied, reminding her once again that he was there to protect her.

"I want to go home." She whispered slowly, her lip trembling along with her voice. "Tell them."

"You can't go home, Bones." He whispered. "Not yet…" He said, holding her against him. "Soon though, okay?"

"Why can't… I remember?" She whispered, her words slurring together.

"Bones, you've gone through a lot in the past couple of days. It is going to take a little bit of time to remember everything, and get things back to normal."

"The doctor said… I had a bleed." She said, feeling his cheek against hers again, he simply held her. "That I was okay for a while."

"Yes." He replied, unsure of what to say, for the emotion of it all was far too staggering for him at the moment.

"I feel… weird." She whispered.

He pulled from the embrace slowly. "Weird how, Bones? Are you in pain, numb?"

"Headache." She said, moving her head to the side. "Heart racing. I…can't… concentrate." She whispered.

"The doctor will be right here." He said, leaning down to kiss her lips tenderly, she reached up and pressed her finger to his lips. He pulled away for a moment, and her finger remained there for just a moment. "You know that I would never cheat." He whispered. "You know that I am an honorable man."

"Yes." She said, dropping her hand, she felt his lips against hers again, and allowed them to explore hers for a moment. It felt familiar and warm, and despite her mind telling her that this is wrong, her heart felt that it was right. She pulled from the tender kiss slowly, noticing that her fingers had interlaced with his collar, her fingertip lightly grazing the rough stubble of his cheek. "What happened?" She asked, attempting to hide the slur, she over-enunciated the words, and it sounded equally as awkward. She frowned at her disability, and felt a rush of emotion. "Tell me… everything."

"You will remember, Bones. It takes time."

"No." She said, pushing at his chest slightly. "Tell… me."

He wished he could see the sincerity in her eyes, because he knew of those patches of gauze weren't hiding those windows to her soul, then he'd have no way to escape the truth that she was begging for. "Bones, I'm not sure I should repeat what was said, you were under stress at the time. You were panicking. Maybe it's better if you just take your time and not worry about it."

"This… took part of my memory." She said. "I need you to give that to me. Give me what you can."

"Bones." He whispered, moving closer to her again, he took her hand. Placing it gently on his cheek, he held it against his skin for a moment. "The moment that I can see your eyes again, will be when I tell you , alright? I need to see your eyes." He said, kissing her tenderly on her lips.

She wanted to ask him what happened to Hannah. She wanted to ask why in nine days, he was immovably at her side. She wanted to know what was said, she wanted to remember everything, but for now her last memory was of a flash of white, a flash of pain, and after a few moments, a weightless feeling that made her feel above everything. She was about to speak, and the door opened to the room. She heard the doctor's voice, and felt a sigh shoot through her lungs as Booth moved away from her, but she grasped his hand tighter, and he let her.

"Mr. Booth." The doctor said, walking toward Booth, he shook his hand and still held her hand with his other. "We have a remarkable woman here." He said with a happy smile, seeing the apprehension in the younger man's eyes, his face grew more serious.

"That is something that you didn't even have to tell me, doc." Booth replied, nodding seriously as he gripped Brennan's hand tightly. He explained the success of the surgery, and the uncertainty that still lurked ahead with the possibility of other bleeds, or damage that may have occurred from the first. He warned them of slurred speech, and possible damage that may have resulted because of the pressure. He told them not to be alarmed about memory loss, her ordeal is not only involving possible brain injury, but also post traumatic stress.

He dimmed the lights a bit and removed the bandages from her eyes, warning that they'd be sensitive. He checked them briefly and explained that the blurred vision is normal after such a surgery, and that it is possible that it is only a temporary condition. The doctor seemed positive in his diagnosis, though gave Booth a list of warning signs to be aware of, in the possibility of another bleed, and with a nod and a quick goodbye, the doctor left them alone.

The lights were still dim, to keep the pain associated with her sensitive eyes to a minimum. Booth's eyes were on the doctor as he left, and then on the closing door. "Booth?" She whispered, squeezing his hand, he turned his face to see her eyes welling with tears.

"What is it, Bones?" He whispered.

"I knew… before… the explosion." She whispered.

"What?" He asked, following the tear that tracked down her cheek slowly.

"That I loved you." She replied, letting the tenderness of her voice melt into the stale air of the hospital room, and allowed it to fill it with a genuine sweetness that could not be denied.


	21. Nothing to Hide, Believe What I Say

"Bones." Booth whispered, crouching down so he could see her eyes. He didn't know if she could see him well or not, but he needed to see her. "I am sorry." He said softly. "I'm sorry that I hurt you." He whispered. "Can you see me?" He asked, watching her blink again and again.

"Yes." She replied. "Blurry." She whispered.

"That's okay." He replied. "I'm actually feeling a little blurry right now." He whispered. "So maybe there isn't anything wrong with your vision." He let out a forced chuckle. He could feel a lump in his throat as he watched the pale face of his partner. Her skin was a ghostly white, her eyes hollow and empty, but she was alive, and looking at him. That was the answer to one of his prayers. "I am glad that you're awake. You need to stop scaring me like that, Bones." He whispered.

Her brow furrowed, and a slight pout adorned her expression. "Not my intention." She muttered. Her head was still pounding, and her lungs still burned, but his expression of peaceful happiness in something as simple as her being awake, was enough to calm her nerves.

"I know, Bones." He whispered. "Russ is here. He wants to see you."

She closed her eyes in pain, moving her head slightly, she groaned. "No." She whimpered.

"Bones, he needs to see you. He's your brother. He loves you."

"Just you." She whispered. "For now, please?" She reached for his hand, and he gave it to her with no questions. "Where is…my dad?"

"We're still trying to locate him." Booth replied, watching a flash of anger appear and quickly disappear. She had no energy to waste, not for her father or anyone. She turned her head from him again, staring into space for a long several moments. Her hand was still holding his, but he could sense that there was something she was holding back. He didn't want to rush her, didn't want to push her too hard, especially since she just woke, but couldn't help but wonder. "Are you angry with me?" he asked.

"Don't… know." She whispered.

"Can I tell you something?" He asked softly, waiting for her to look at him, there was a long pause, and slowly her head turned. Her eyes were on him curiously, and when she reached out to touch his face, he leaned into it carefully. "Before you went into surgery… you told me that you didn't want to die without telling me that you love me." He said, watching her brow furrow. "You believe me, right?"

"Yes." She whispered.

"Do you love me, Bones?" He asked. "Do you love me right now, as I sit here beside you… do you still love me even though you can't place the past nine days of your life in a solid timeline? Do you love me?" He asked. He wasn't begging for her to say one thing or another, and it was clear that all he wanted from her was the truth. He searched her eyes, and she searched his.

"I could never stop, Booth." She said slowly. "Not even if I wanted to."

He smiled a gentle smile and let his finger slide across her cheek lovingly. She still had a glimmer of fear in her eyes. He knew what her fears were, and still he hadn't spoken the words, even since before the scare with her eyesight. He wanted to make things as clear as he could. "Before your surgery, Angela was here." He whispered. "Do you remember that?"

"No." She swallowed hard. She could hear the intensity in his voice, and it made her want to be closer to him. She could feel the tension in his body, hear the strength in his voice as he spoke.

"Angela told you some things that I hadn't told you yet. Things, that at the time, I wish I had." He watched the questioning look on her face, and smiled. "I am very sorry that I was selfish, Bones. I'm sorry that I stepped back from what we could have had. I don't know why all of this happened. I don't know… who did this to you, to those people in that club… but I will find them."

He stopped speaking for a moment, and her eyes flicked to the side, and back to him. "What did Angela tell me?" She whispered slowly, trying so hard to pull her memories back, and coming up with nothing. Her belly was churning with the unknown, and her head, though throbbing ever so painfully seemed lulled into submission by his voice.

"I love you, Bones." He said, watching her chest rise with a surprised and slow gasp. "Please don't die. Please stay strong. I love you." He said, watching her face for a reaction she seemed to go a little paler, and he felt a rush of panic course through his body.

"Did you tell me what happened with…" She paused, and thought for a moment. The name she was trying to think of had slipped from her memory. She could see the woman's blonde hair in her mind, hear her irritating voice in her ear, but still, her name had completely escaped her memory. "I can't…" Her face scrunched.

"It doesn't matter, Bones." He interrupted. "I could never love someone the way that I love you. Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"And you still love me, even after everything we've put one another through?"

"Because… of it." She whispered, pausing for a moment, her eyelids were becoming heavier. "So tired."

"Sleep." He said softly. "We have a long road ahead of us, Bones." He said, leaning down to kiss her lips softly, watching her eyes close reluctantly. "Maybe when you wake up… things will be a little clearer." He said, letting her rest peacefully in her bed, as he stood watch over her.


	22. So Here I Am, With Open Arms

It had only taken two days before Brennan was moved from ICU to a regular room. Booth stood watch when he could, and eventually Angela, Hodgins, Sweets, and several other visitors had been by to see her. Through the days that passed, her headaches lessened slightly, and her speech improved considerably, though she was uncharacteristically quiet for the most part. Her guests simply took it for what it was worth, happy that their friend was alive, and with each tiny step of improvement, they took it in stride.

Booth, however carefully noted the differences in her behavior, and was genuinely nervous about her recovery. He was quietly cautious every step of the way, and wordlessly filed away each nuance of behavior that he had noticed had changed. He knew that she had been emotionally scarred before the incident, and tried desperately to think back to the way it was just one month earlier, to the way things were before the explosion. He tried to remember where things were between Brennan and himself, and what frightened him, was that he couldn't think of anything that should have alerted him.

He felt ashamed that he couldn't remember how things had deteriorated between them. He felt ashamed that things had become so frayed between them, that he couldn't even remember the last time they shared a drink after a case. He felt ashamed that he couldn't remember the last time they had a moment alone together that wasn't case related, and he felt ashamed that he couldn't bring himself to ask her the questions he wanted answered. He couldn't ask her the questions he needed to have answered, the questions he hungered to know the answers to. He knew that her scars were more than simple cuts and burns. He knew that her pain was deeper than the headaches and the muscle pains. He knew that between the incident and its aftermath, the emotional pillar that she was dancing atop was unstable at best.

* * *

It had been two weeks since her surgery, and as she pulled her feet from beneath the sheets and placed them on the cold floor, she was very aware that she was more than ready to escape the confines of the hospital. She moved slowly toward the bathroom, her mobility was slightly impaired by dizziness that was still present, but not enough to cause any panic. She stepped into the small bathroom and began to prepare herself for her leave. She closed the bathroom door just as someone entered her room, and she sighed when she heard his voice. It wasn't a sad sigh, or wistful, just a sigh of recognition that he was there, and wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

"Bones?"

"Getting ready." She replied, offering him nothing more as she heard his acknowledgment through the door. She slowly readied herself as he waited.

On the other side of the door, Booth found himself pacing back and forth, his eyes focused on the floor as his feet stepped from block of linoleum to block of linoleum and he tried his hardest to keep that focus centered on the floor and nothing else. There was a sense of anxiety for him for the coming days, and it all was starting with Brennan leaving the hospital. He could admit that he was happy at the change in their relationship, though he did find himself to be a bit guarded. They had become closer than ever before in the past several weeks, and he tried very hard to block out the memories of what had gotten them this far. He heard something drop in the bathroom and his focus jumped to the closed door. "Bones, are you okay?" The long pause unnerved him, and he placed his hand on the door handle. "Bones?"

"I dropped." Her voice trailed off. "I'm okay." She replied.

He pulled his hand from the door and walked to the bed, his nerves rattled a bit. He reminded himself that she is an adult and she can take care of herself. He felt his stomach twist at his reminder, knowing that it was that type of thought that got her into this situation in the first place. His fist clenched as he leaned against the bed, closing his eyes for several moments he attempted to calm himself. In his mind he could still hear the constant ringing of her heart monitor, smell the smoke in the air, and feel the heavy sense of loss in his heart. So involved in his own thoughts, he didn't hear the bathroom door open, or even her voice calling his name at first.

"Booth?" She said again, touching his clenched fist, his eyes popped open, and instantly he registered the concern in her eyes.

"Hey." He said, standing up, he took her hand and faced her, grasping her other hand with his. He pressed his forehead to hers lightly and smiled at her. The concerned look still hadn't left her face, and she let out a slow sigh as her eyes fluttered slightly. "Are you ready to get out of here?" He asked, smiling in that way he did, that way that he knew he could get just about anything from anyone, the smile Brennan always described as his 'charm' smile.

Her brow furrowed, and for a moment he wasn't sure if it was pain or something else. When her hand squeezed his, he knew that it was the latter. "You can't charm your way out of this, Booth. What's wrong?"

"I'm just worried about you." He replied, kissing her forehead. "You can tell me all you want that you're doing better, but you're still not yourself."

"That's ridiculous." She said, starting to pull away from him, he kept his hands in hers, and she was forced to turn to look into his eyes. "Booth, I am recovering." She said slowly, and that thick enunciation was still present in her words, he couldn't just let it slide.

"Bones, maybe you don't see it, or notice it, but I do. I can see how you struggle with speaking sometimes, the way that you pause when you're trying to think of a word. You can look me in the eye, and you can tell me all of the bones in my hand, but if I hold this up." He said, showing her the palm of his hand. "Can you tell me what that is?" He asked, narrowing his eyes in a challenging manner.

She stared at his hand, the word settling on the tip of her tongue yet her mind was simply blank. Her eyes flicked to his, and to the hand again. "Time, Booth." She replied, the stress evident in the sharp breath she sucked in. "I need time." She said, finally pulling her hands from his. She turned to walk toward the door, and stopped when she failed to hear his footfalls behind her. She stared at the door in front of her and closed her eyes. "I need you too." She said, swallowing the pain in her chest as she tried to reach for the handle blindly.

She felt his hand on her back, wrapping around her waist as he reached for the door, supporting her on his arm. She heard the door open, and opened her eyes to see the hallway before her, nurses bustling down the hallway as the sounds of the outside world called to her. "I'm here." He whispered in her ear as she paused her step. "Not going anywhere." He whispered. And with a slow release of the breath she was holding, Brennan decided to give the real world a try once more.


	23. Living Without you, Living Alone

There was only a small argument about the wheelchair ride from the hospital floor to the car waiting outside. She didn't have the strength to fight with him, and he found that despite his own exhaustion, he wasn't willing to give her an inch. There were still many things that needed to be worked out between the two of them, and moving onto more familiar ground was an important first step.

The drive was in silence, not too awkward, but there were moments of uncertainty that seemed to echo between the two of them. She glanced to him out of the corner of her eye, and caught his eyes on her for a moment before he turned his attention back to the road. His hand moved to the center console, perhaps to rest it there, but maybe to entice her into a soft contact or connection to him. She slowly moved her hand to his, sliding it down his wrist, she entangled their fingers.

Booth was surprised by how calm she was, how passive, and quiet she had remained, and it made him nervous, and afraid that she would never be the same woman she was before this had all happened. The Temperance Brennan he knew was strong and filled with fight, one of the frustrating and most endearing of her qualities. The woman sitting beside him now, was more like a small, frightened child, terrified of the unknown, the illogical. It was the possibility that she would never be the same, that frightened him the most.

He pulled up to the apartment, and watched her sit for a moment, her eyes focused on the seatbelt buckle. She looked at it as if it were some kind of foreign object, a puzzle that she needed to figure out. She refused to look up at him, refused to give in, and allowed her fingertips to slowly roll over the buckle while her mind attempted to solve the riddle. He had been the one to buckle her in, without thinking, he had grabbed it around and quickly snapped in, but now it was her turn to figure out the device. Her head was pounding, and she could feel the dizziness from sitting up was making her stomach churn.

"Bones, are you alright?" Booth's voice startled her, even though it was soft and soothing.

"Headache." She whispered.

"That's to be expected." He said, leaning toward her, his hand slipped down and lightly pushed the button on the buckle, just as his lips brushed hers. Her eyes opened when she felt it slide over her lap and whip into its place behind the seat, and Booth leaned back in his seat before grabbing the door handle. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." She said, a nod beyond her strength at the moment, he climbed out of the SUV and moved around to help her out of her seat.

* * *

The moment she stepped into her apartment, more like stumbled into her apartment, her breath was taken from her. She closed her eyes as she tried to shadow the panic in her gut, but everything came flooding back to her.

"Bones, are you alright?" Booth whispered, noticing the blanched look, the wide eyes, and the way she was gasping slightly with each quick breath. She was obviously having a mild panic attack. "Bones, look at me." He said, standing in front of her, her eyes settled on his, her breathing evened.

Everything was just as she had left it. It was a bit tidier, but still, it was everything that her life was before the accident, before the explosion. She closed her eyes. "I'm okay." She replied in a whisper.

He was slightly concerned that her reply was that, and not a snap of 'I'm fine, Booth', but he knew that it would take some time before she slipped back into that infuriating routine. She was being honest with him now, and if 'okay' meant that she was just experiencing some discomfort or a tinge of mental anguish, then he knew that she was at least admitting to needing help.

Brennan brushed past him slowly, limping her way through the apartment, she walked around the couch and regarded it for a moment. She knew that if she sat down, she'd probably simply fall asleep.

"I'll go get your bag out of the car, okay?" He said, handing her a small paper bag. "Those are your medications, you're just about ready for your next dose. He could see that her eyes were imploring his. "Can you take care of that?"

"Of course I can. I am not a child." She scowled, her eyebrows furrowing further when she caught the glimpse of a smile on his lips. She snatched the bag from him, and turned. "And stop smiling." She huffed.

"That's my girl." Booth said, leaning forward for a kiss, she let him drop a small one on her cheek before he turned and walked out of the apartment.

Brennan walked slowly toward the kitchen and looked around at a couple of items that had been placed improperly. As if by habit, she rearranged a couple of things, and could feel her anxiety starting to melt away slowly. She opened the paper bag slowly, feeling the tear at the staple, dumping the seven bottles onto the counter. "I could start my own pharmacy." She mumbled to herself.

She lined the bottles up on the counter, from large to small and stared at them for several moments. She knew that some were anti-convulsants, others pain medications. She had a medicine for her stomach, a salve for her burns, and several other pills to counteract side effects of other drugs. She lifted each bottle to her line of sight, and while it was clear that the information for each pill was on the bottle, she couldn't comprehend the words on the bottles. The letters looked foreign to her, lines and designs, that just didn't seem to be familiar to her. She closed her eyes tightly and then rubbed them with her thumb and forefinger, wondering If her eyes were simply playing tricks on her.

Her head was pounding angrily, and a lump was quickly forming in her throat caused by her confusion. All she wanted was to take the pain medication, and go to sleep. All she wanted was a little peace from the ringing in her ears, a little escape from the hell that she was finding herself in. The apartment was so quiet with just her, and for a moment she was transported back to the night of the explosion. Standing in the kitchen, preparing herself for the mission, alone. It was quiet, so quiet. Her head was pounding, thumping in her ears, she reached for one of the bottles, and hoped that it was the right one. Violently she tried to jerk the top from it, and found that she couldn't even do that. The words on the top were possibly telling her how to do it, but she simply couldn't read it, couldn't work the top off. In a fit of anger and defeat, she swung the pill bottle back and threw it across the room, watching it slam into the side of the front door just as Booth swung it open with the bags.

"Whoa, Bones!" He exclaimed, looking to the source of the flying pill bottle.

"Can't do it!" She shouted. "Can't open it!"

"I don't think the wall is going to do a better job, Bones." He said, lifting the bottle up, he looked at the label.

"Cannot read what is on… on it… Cannot open it…" She shouted, her words enunciated carefully. She seemed frustrated with even that. Her words seemed to become fragmented and almost formal in her most frustrated moments, and right now was no different.

"Stop." He said, dropping the bags, he stepped to the counter where she had put the pills down. He placed the rogue bottle with the others and quickly read through the other bottles. "You can't get so frustrated." He said softly. "You said yourself that this was going to take some time." He turned to see the look of defeat in her eyes. "But listen." He said, approaching her slowly. "Don't stop trying, okay?"

"I just want my pills, please." She said, holding out her hand.

"I'm not going to let you stop trying." He replied, opening two or three bottles, he put the pills in his hand and turned around. He took her hand, and dropped them inside, as he moved toward the glasses. He pulled a glass from the cupboard and poured her a cup of water from the sink. He turned around, and was surprised to find her standing so close to him.

"Don't give up on me." She replied. "Because I am broken."

"You're not broken." He whispered, leaning down to capture her lips with his. "Not in my eyes."

"Perhaps… you need glasses." She whispered against him, feeling his warm breath as he laughed, lifting her spirits just a little more, just with its gentle rumble.


	24. This Empty House Is So Cold

Her bed felt so big compared to the bed in the hospital, and when she had put her head on the pillow to take a nap, she found that sleep eluded her. She stared at the ceiling for what seemed like a moment or two, but when she turned her head and glanced at the clock, she noted that nearly a half hour had already passed. She listened for the sound of Booth in the other room, expecting to hear a television, or any kind of movement on the other side of the door.

Everything was silent.

But for the remaining tinnitus that she still suffered from.

But for the sound of her heartbeat echoing in her ears.

She rolled to her side slowly, an endeavor that had become less painful in the last few days, but still stung with every slight movement. Her room felt cool, a slight breeze rolling over her arms made her pull them under the cover and tuck the comforter close to her neck, as a shiver ran through her body. She swallowed hard, and stared at the door, wondering if he'd join her, what he was doing, or if he had left yet, or at all. He had told her that he had things that he needed to do, he told her to rest. She hadn't questioned his errands, and the pain medications dulled her strength to argue. He had kissed her carefully on her lips, asked her if she needed anything, and she declined, slipping silently into the room alone.

She tried closing her eyes again, and the flashes of light in her mind made them pop open once again. The drugs were making her slightly sick to her stomach, and her vision swirl just a bit. But despite the intense drowsiness she was feeling, she couldn't seem to fall asleep. She pulled the blanket to the side, sliding her legs to the edge, she sat up. A wave of nausea hit her, and it took a moment for her to get her bearings, listening for movement outside the room, there was nothing.

Brennan managed to get to her feet, feeling better once she was standing; she took a slow step toward the door and glanced to the clock again. It was nearly two in the afternoon, and she could feel her stomach growling angrily, a drastic change from the twisting feeling she was having a moment before when she had first moved about. Slowly, she walked toward the door, shuffling her feet against the cool wooden floor, she opened the door and listened for movement. She felt a pang of panic attempt to make itself known. She hadn't been alone in weeks in a silent place, she hadn't been here in her apartment for weeks. She could feel the hunger disappearing quickly and being replaced by a twisting pain in her gut.

Then through the ringing in her ears, she could hear what sounded like a soft motor running. She took a step out into the room, and was immediately greeted by the sight of two brightly colored socks sticking out from over the arm of her couch. She felt a sense of relief wash over her, recognizing the 'motor' sound as the light snore of her partner. She walked around the couch finding a notebook on his chest, his hand grasping it tightly. His eyes were closed, his neck cricked just a bit as he slept soundly across the cushions.

Brennan watched him for a moment, finding herself unable to look at him as he lay there in a completely unguarded state. His eyes fluttered in dreaming, but he didn't stir a bit. She saw the blanket across the back of the couch and carefully leaned across to grab it. Delicately, she placed the blanket over his sleeping form, and watched him to see if he would awaken. His eyes remained closed, and after a moment, that slow, steady motor began grating once again. She could feel a tightness in her chest as she watched him sleep, his hands still showing scars from his harrowing rescue, she had often heard him cry out for her when he had dozed in the hospital. She'd always pretend that she was sleeping when he'd jolt from a nightmare, but only because it broke her heart to know that she had done this to him. It was quite the opposite for her, she couldn't seem to get any rest in the hospital. Every time she closed her eyes and was just about to slip to sleep, her mind was filled with chaos. She could hear Booth's frantic calls, smell the sickening stench of flesh burning, and gunpowder. The sounds of patrons screaming for help haunted her mind to the point of insomnia.

Brennan nearly jumped when she heard a gentle knock at the door, and hurried toward it as quickly as she could without making herself sick, and looked into the hallway through the peep hole. A slight smile slipped onto her lips and she stared at the lock for a moment. "Just a second, Ange." She said, a desperate tinge in her voice as she stared at the lock mechanism for several moments.

"Bren, are you okay?"

"Yes." She said softly, running her finger over the locking mechanism, she could feel a sense of panic. "Just…" And just as she was about to turn, a hand covered hers. She felt his chest against her back, and his fingers touched her fingers as she set them carefully on the lock. He held her hand securely, and guided her fingers on the lock switch, turning the button with her hand. She felt his lips graze just above her ear, and his arm encircled her waist as he grabbed the door knob and turned it without a word. She looked up at him, but his focus was on the person on the other side of the door.

"Booth." Angela said, almost sounding surprised, she could see the panic fading from Brennan's face as she settled back against him and he smiled.

"Hey, Ange." He said, his voice calm and collected, though she could tell from the look in his eyes that he had been sleeping only moments earlier.

"Jack is parking the car, we just wanted to come by and check on Bren, see how she's doing." She said, regarding her friend.

"Just woke up." She spoke slowly.

"We were resting." Booth said wearily, slowly releasing Brennan from his tender hold. "Do you guys want some coffee, something to drink?" He asked, taking a step back, Angela nodded. "Alright, I'll be right back, you ladies make yourself comfortable." He turned and walked toward the kitchen.

Brennan stood for a moment, watching Booth disappear around the corner, when she felt Angela touch her arm, and her attention was pulled away. "You two seem to be getting along very well." She said with a smile.

"Yes." Brennan replied, unsure of what else to say, she was still trying to recover from the moment by the door, she moved slowly toward the couch.

"You guys were resting?" Angela asked, trying to hide the almost wicked smile on her lips, a blush worked its way up Brennan's cheeks, making her pale face full of color, Angela's grin grew wider.

"Not … like that."

"Well, you both look exhausted." Angela said truthfully.

"It's going to take a little while to adjust." Booth said, walking toward the door just as someone knocked. He placed two cups on the coffee table, and caught Brennan's gaze. "I'll let Hodgins in." He said. "We're taking it one day at a time, right Bones?"

"Yes." She said, nodding as she turned her attention back to Angela. "One day at a time."

Booth walked to the door and opened it, his voice was hushed for a moment as he nodded toward the hallway as he spoke with Hodgins. He turned his attention to the two women, who were watching him curiously. "Hodgins and I are just going to… get some air, okay?" He said, seeing Brennan's brow furrowed. "We won't be long." He said, just as Hodgins poked his head into the apartment.

"Hey, Doctor B." He said, a smile on his face as Booth gave him a friendly shoulder push.

"Hi Jack…" She said, though before she could say anything more, Booth and Hodgins were out of the apartment, the door closing securely behind them.


	25. Any Way You Want It

Booth and Hodgins walked to the elevator in silence, and stepped in without so much as a word. Hodgins could see the pain in the Agent's eyes, and chose to remain quiet in the absence of an explanation for their little side trip. Once the elevator reached the bottom floor, Booth stepped off, and walked toward the exit, only pausing for a second when he opened the door to the outside of the building for both of them.

They walked side by side down the sidewalk, Booth's eyes downcast and Hodgins taking a side glance to the other man now and again as the sound of their feet shuffled along the sidewalk. There was no precipitation in the air, but there was a damp heaviness that seemed to be lingering. Hodgins kept in step with Booth's long strides, saying nothing as he waited for the other man to start talking. He was almost surprised when Booth stopped suddenly and looked up. He stared off for a second and then focused on Hodgins.

"I don't know how to ask her." He said, the agony of his words was written on his face. "How do I even try to talk about this? I don't know where to start, if I should even ask her about it, if I should be the one to try to get her to talk, if she should be the one to come to me about it." He rambled listlessly to the scientist, his voice radiating what could have been described as a dull whine. "Hodgins, I'm exhausted."

Hodgins waited for a moment. "Do you want me to say anything?" He asked, seriously questioning the rhetoric that Booth was spouting. He tilted his head and watched Booth's face contort. First he looked agitated, and then his expression relaxed, and his jaw clenched.

"No." Booth replied, wishing for a moment that he had kept his mouth shut. He turned and started walking down the sidewalk again.

"Booth." Hodgins said, feeling guilty. He didn't mean for his reaction to sound like a brush off, he jogged after the other man, and caught up to him, grabbing his arm. Booth turned and glared at him, and he quickly moved his hand. "I didn't mean to sound like I don't care. I just mean that I don't know what to say."

"It never stopped you before. Hodgins, you and Bones… You have a connection. You've been through a lot together. You've been through a lot of the same things, same experiences. You understand how her mind works a little better than I do. How do I get her to talk about this? How do I understand why she did what she did?"

"She is a grown adult, Booth. She made a decision to…"

"I understand that she can make her own decisions, that she knows her limits. I understand all of that…"

"You don't seem to have a problem when she puts herself at risk when she's with you." Hodgins said, not thinking about the possible fallout from that statement, but he didn't care. "What I'm saying, is that she'll come to you when she's ready. She always has in the past, but it isn't about trust this time. She trusts you. It's about fear. She's afraid of what you're going to think if she tells you what she was thinking."

"That's stupid." Booth grumbled.

"I hope that's not what you tell her." Hodgins said, as the two of them continued their walk in silence.

* * *

Angela reached out and touched her friend's trembling hand as she held the cup of coffee. The dark liquid was bouncing in the mug, ripples splashing against the side. "Hey," Angela said softly. "Are you alright?"

Brennan stared at her cup, her friend's hand for several moments, letting the question settle in the air. "I don't think I am." She paused. "I don't like to admit that."

"Nobody likes to admit that." Angela said, her voice supportive. It lacked that coddling tone that Brennan had been hearing in everyone's voice. It lacked that overly sympathetic syrup that was sweet with artificial aftertaste. It was genuine and pure concern, and Brennan recognized the fear in her friend's voice.

"He has nightmares," She admitted.

"Booth?"

"Yes," Brennan nodded slowly. "They are horrible nightmares. He wakes up shouting my name, choking and coughing. I know that he remembers them, but he never talks to me about them."

"Have you asked?"

"No." Brennan replied, almost as if the question itself were ludicrous. "I already know what they're about. I already know that it is my fault. I already know." She whispered, her pronunciation becoming more specific again, indicating her fragile emotional state.

"Do you have nightmares?"

"No." She replied. "I don't sleep."

* * *

"I don't want her to feel badly for feeling this way." Booth said, glancing to Hodgins as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "I mean, I think I know why all of this happened, I just need her to say it. Just, take off the gloves and let me have it, you know?"

"It's going to be really difficult having a personal relationship with her, if you can't get to the root of the psychological barriers."

* * *

"It's like an addiction. I mean, it wasn't the same without him, but the exhilaration is unmatchable. I felt free, I felt unrestrained, I felt…"

"Invincible." Angela stated. "And you found out that you're not."

"Angela, we're all susceptible to physical barriers, we are human, after all. Nobody has the ability to be immune to danger."

"Then what were you doing?"

"Trying to feel alive."

"And how do you feel now?"

"Like my life disintegrated into the walls of that club." She replied, her eyes flickering to the door as Booth and Hodgins stepped through.

Booth caught Brennan's eyes and they lingered for a moment, their conversation silent but meaningful, and she was the first to look away, her eyes lighting up a little more at the sight of Hodgins. She hazarded a smile, and he smiled back.

"Hey, Doctor B." He said, sitting down across from her, he fiddled with his hands for a minute. "I bet it feels good to be home."

"Yes." She nodded, looking up at Booth, his eyes hadn't left her.

"Hodgins, you want some coffee or something?" Booth asked, forcing himself to look away from her for a moment.

"Nah, no thanks."

"We just wanted to stop in to check on you, see if you guys needed anything… welcome you back into the land of normal." Angela replied.

"A lot has changed." Booth said catching Brennan's gaze before she looked away again.

There was a little more conversation between the four of them, before Angela announced that they should go. She reasoned that Brennan needed her rest, and that Booth looked like he was in need of some sleep as well. Once they said their goodbyes and shuffled out of the door, Booth busied himself with clearing the cups from the coffee table.

Rinsing the mugs in the sink, he could feel her standing nearby. Her eyes were on him, and though he knew there were so many things that stood between them in the past, there was nothing there now.

Just air.

It was a thick air filled with unanswered questions, and unquestioned answers that made his chest heavy, and his jaw clench. He wanted her to be the one to speak up, and knew that if he kept waiting, it may never happen.

"Bones?" He said, at the same time he heard her say his name. He turned and her mouth hung open just slightly, her eyes focused on his, burning into his soul.

"I'm ready to talk." She whispered.


	26. That's The Way You Need It

The heaviness in the room hung like a cloak, and it seemed for a moment that neither of them would speak. Her mouth was open slightly, his eyes caring and concerned as they directed themselves to hers. He could feel that heaviness in his chest, and feel a soft buzz of electricity rolling from his fingertips.

"I never… meant to hurt you." Brennan said, refusing to look away from him. Her stomach was churning slightly, and there was a bit of dizziness that she was experiencing. The nausea was pushed to the side, ignored for the time being and she bunched her hands into fists. "It was never my intention for either of us to get hurt."

"I understand that." He replied. Booth was experiencing his own sense of dizziness at the moment, his lips dry, but his mind clear. He knew what needed to be said, he knew how to clear the air as well. She had asked for time, and she had gotten it, but he was ready. "I never meant to hurt you, Bones."

"We have already apologized." She said slowly, she took a step and wobbled a bit. She could see him almost step for her, but was relieved when he let her stand on her own. "I don't want this to be about an apology. I don't want you to regret…"

"I have no regrets when it comes to you. I make no excuses. You were right when you said that I loved Hannah." He replied. "I did, and part of me still does. You can't just turn your feelings off for someone." He held his hand out to her, and she reached for it, allowing him to grip her fingers in his hand.

"I missed you." She whispered, pulling herself closer to him, she wrapped her arms around him and he held her. She rested her head on his shoulder, burying her nose in his neck. "I missed us."

"I missed us, too." He whispered, kissing the top of her head. "I know that's why you kept this from me. I understand that."

She pulled from his embrace slowly. She rested her hands on his chest and stared at her fingertips. "I could make the argument that before you and I met, my life was a lot easier. But the day I met you, everything that I understood was different. I had feelings to go along with my assumptions. I have found that things that I was able to compartmentalize and put aside are weighing on my mind more. I felt alive when we were working on a case, when we were interrogating suspects together, working together, on stakeouts, undercover. I felt needed, wanted… I felt alive. When you came back, and I came back… we were strangers."

He moved his finger to her chin, gently lifting it to see her eyes. "We were never strangers, Bones."

"But we were." She said, stepping backwards. She lifted her hand to her forehead, backing up to sit on the couch. "You had your new life, and your personal happiness to be concerned with. "

"What was I supposed to do, Bones? Sit in the desert and wish things could have been different? You shot me down, Bones. You shot me down, and you left for Maluku."

"You told me to go." She said, keeping her voice low, her eyes were flashing fire. "You told me… to go."

Booth could feel her anger, her resentment. It was evident in her eyes, evident in her voice.

"You are the one that has regrets." He said, throwing that fact into the air, he could see her control starting to crumble. "You regret turning me down, and you resent me for finding someone else."

Her silence was enough of an answer. He expected her to retreat, to tell him that she was tired and to end the conversation there. However, she took her hands from her face, and looked up at him pointedly.

"I do have regrets, and I do resent you… and I did put myself in danger on purpose. I put myself in danger because of you." She said. Her voice didn't waver, her words didn't slur. She wasn't holding back. She could feel a dizzying rush of adrenaline. She thought he'd interrupt, or become angry. She thought that he'd at least react, but he didn't. He simply shook his head, and crouched down to face her.

"Tell me why, Bones. Why?"

"When I went to Maluku… when I left… I tried so hard to immerse myself in the work. I love anthropology. I love science. I love what I do, Booth." She said. She was picking her words very wisely, and he could sense the pause in the rhythm of her speech. So he listened carefully, keeping his focus on her face while she spoke, spilling her heart out to him in the slow, warm, flowing words that followed. "Everything felt so empty. I was surrounded by what I love, but I wasn't where I wanted to be. Maluku wasn't my home… and the work I was doing wasn't a life or death situation. If we found anything, it wasn't for the future, it was just a reflection of the past. Do you understand?"

Booth nodded.

"What I was doing here at home… working with you to catch murderers… it was for the future. We worked with the dead, to preserve the living. We put our lives on the line together… we trusted one another implicitly. We were partners. In Maluku, I had nobody… and I realized that it was you that showed me that. You brought colors and warmth into my work… you turned my work for the past into work for the future… and while I was realizing all of that, you continued on without me."

"Bones."

"No. I don't blame you. But… when I returned, I was already craving the danger. I needed to continue working for the future… even in places that you were not present. You moved on, settled on your future… and I was still looking for mine." She said, swallowing hard. "I resented you for moving on without me. I am guilty of that."

"Bones." Booth said, interrupting her for a moment, her head tilted, and he tried to focus on her eyes. "There is more to be said, but I think you've said enough for now. We can talk more about it later…" 

"You are having nightmares." She blurted out, her palm resting on his temple for a moment, sliding her hand down to his cheek, she cupped it gently.

"It's fine, I've always had nightmares, Bones. It comes with the territory."

"You scream my name." She whispered. "It's like… you re-live it each night in your sleep. What do you see?" She asked.

"It's not what I see, Bones… I've seen a lot of death. What always gets me and tears me apart are the sounds… I hear people calling for help, dying… suffering. I can smell the burnt flesh, taste the smoke in my mouth. That's what I am screaming for… I can get to you in my dreams… I just can't stop the suffering around me." He whispered, with a whisper of a tear in his eye, before her arms opened and she pulled him into her. He snaked his arms around her as well, latching them securely on her frame, as he rocked her gently, to calm them both.


	27. Caught Between Confusion and Pain

**_Four weeks later-  
_**

The low thrum of the ringing of her ears was pulsing with each passing second. She could feel his eyes on her once more and without looking moved her hand toward his. His larger hand swallowed hers with a brief eagerness that appeared to dissipate with the gentle grip.

"I know," she whispered. Her voice was slightly broken, but she was trying to be strong about it. She had made the decision to go back to the lab. She wanted to do her best to get things back to normal. Booth watched as Angela stepped out of the building as they pulled up, and Brennan's eyes met his. "I don't need a baby sitter." She spoke slowly.

"You wouldn't let me come inside with you, so I just asked Angela to walk with you. She's not babysitting you, she misses you, Bones." Booth replied with a sincere gaze that she held for several moments. The gentle knock on the window pulled them from their stare and Brennan glanced to her friend looking to her from the window.

"Bones?" Booth said softly.

"I'm going to be fine, Booth. Please stop babying…" She turned her head, and he was holding up her bag. He had a bit of a sly smile on his lips and she watched his eyes narrow. "Thank you." She said, taking the bag from him. "Thank you for the ride."

"It's not a problem."

Angela opened the door to the car, and tried to appear patient and non-coddling as Brennan struggled to pull herself from the seat. She looked toward the building and busied herself with her purse as Brennan stood and looked back at Booth. He handed her the bag from the seat, and she gave him a shy smile before closing the door.

Booth watched for a moment as she stumbled slightly, taking a step, but recovered when Angela grabbed her bag, she snatched it back quickly and Brennan let out a laugh. Booth let out the breath he had been holding and watched the two of them walk toward the building together. He closed his eyes for a moment and let a soft prayer slip between his lips, before taking a deep breath, and continuing toward the Hoover Building.

* * *

Brennan walked alongside Angela through the hallways to the elevator. She paused outside the doors for a moment, and Angela caught her wary look. "What's wrong, Bren? Everyone is really excited to see you."

Brennan shook her head, and stopped outside of the doors. "Elevators." She whispered. "They make me nauseous." She glanced toward the stairwell.

"Thinking about walking up the stairs in these heels makes me nauseous, sweetie." Angela snapped with a smirk, watching Brennan's mind work quickly, as the doors to the elevator opened. She could see the hesitation, and instantly felt guilty for the jab. "Would you rather take the stairs?"

"No." Brennan shook her head. "You're right, I cannot avoid conflict," she said, her voice wavering in an attempt to be strong.

"Bren, it's okay, we don't…" Angela said as Brennan stepped into the elevator and turned around, her face as serious as ever. "If you're sure." Angela stepped into the elevator with her friend, Brennan's eyes met her eyes, and there was nothing. No spark, no joy, nothing. "Bren, we don't have to go to the lab today, I can tell everyone that you're not up for it."

"I've wasted enough time, Angela." She said slowly, reaching forward to push the button on the panel, her mind blanked and she held her palm in the air. She breathed slowly, trying to count to five as she had taught herself, hoping that the action would come to her, and nothing. Angela pushed the button and rolled her eyes, seemingly ignoring her friend's struggle, she grasped her hand and looked her in the eyes. "I've got your back, Bren."

"This is why Booth was not allowed to come inside with me, Angela."

"Why? Because you might need some help?" Angela asked, she turned around and pushed the stop button.

"Angela." Brennan said, trying to move around her friend, she blocked the panel. "Angela, I don't feel well."

"Stop, Bren. Just stop."

"You stop." Brennan said, her lip trembling as she tried to reach behind her friend to get to the button panel. "I need to get to the lab." She said in quick, short words, almost robotic.

"Bren, look at me." Angela said, taking her friend's hand, she forced her to look into her eyes. "It's not the same, Bren. It's not going to be the same. So don't go in there, and expect it to be. We're here to help."

"I don't want help."

"We're not asking you if you want help, Brennan. We're going to do it without question. This is our job, your job. If you can't do it, you can't be on the platform. You can't work, Bren, if you can't even press an elevator button!"

Brennan took a step back, pulling her hand from Angela's as if it were burned. She could feel her face warming up, and the bile rising in the back of her throat. The ringing of the stopped elevator was competing with the ringing in her ears. Her mouth was dry and her eyes were beginning to fill with tears, and though she could see the concern in her friend's eyes, all she could feel now was the sting of betrayal. In one movement, she stepped forward, slamming her hand into the button to make the elevator move, and a rush of air expelled from her lungs. In just a moment, the doors opened, and without a second look, she stomped from the elevator, marching her way toward the lab without looking back. Angela called to her as she rushed after, trying to explain herself, and her outburst.


	28. But Now That You've Come Back

Brennan marched through the sliding doors of the lab, and refused to look in any direction but straight toward her office. She could sense the stares of the lab staff on her, and simply needed to find her way to her office without encountering anyone that wished to speak to her. She heard the sliding glass doors open just behind her, and Angela's voice calling to her almost desperately. With a quick but labored pace, she managed to get to her office before anyone grabbed her attention. She stepped inside and promptly slammed the door behind her. Once the door was closed, she pressed her back to it and tried desperately to catch her breath. Her lungs burned from the physical exertion, still recovering from the smoke inhalation from the incident.

Her heart beat painfully in her ears, and her eyes stung with unshed tears. She wasn't sure what had triggered her sudden anger. She wasn't sure why Angela's words had affected her so strongly. In another time, another place in her life, she would have fought back or simply ignored Angela's words. Brennan chastised herself for her weakness and closed her eyes tightly to try to refocus herself. She could sense that Angela was on the other side of the door, trying to decide whether to knock or to wait her out, and with the extended pause, it must have been the latter.

Brennan's eyes passed over the familiar room, and a sad smile slipped onto her lips. It was her first time among her work since the explosion, the first time she entered her domain since everything she knew in her life had shattered to pieces.

The sound of the ringing phone jarred her out of her reverie, and her eyes quickly moved to the door. She wondered if it was Angela trying to get in to her, or Booth calling to check up on her. It had been nearly two months since she had been here, and her doctor hadn't officially cleared her for work. She was well aware that very few people knew that she'd be in the lab today. Brennan stared across the room at the ringing phone, feeling a sense of relief when it stopped. She let her shoulders sag for a moment, and immediately, the phone began to ring again. Brennan glowered at the offensive device sitting on her desk, and without thinking stalked across and lifted the receiver to her ear. "Doctor Brennan," her voice was sharp and short.

"There you are, Bones," Booth's voice strummed across the line. He sensed her agitation and let her lead the conversation.

"Booth, I don't need you to check up on me. I am perfectly capable of doing this on my own," she stated stubbornly.

"Then you didn't forget anything?" he asked, his voice a bit playful.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "No, I have my bag,"

"So you didn't forget anything?"

"Booth, what is wrong with you?" her voice took on a slower beat, and her anger quickly evaporated into the air.

"Must have been me that forgot something then."

"What?"

"I forgot to wish you luck."

She could hear his voice soften at the word. They had been arguing on and off for several days over his perceived overuse of the word 'luck.' The friendly banter that bounced between them was as 'back to normal' as they had been in months. His words brought a smile to her face, and she tried to hide it while she responded. "We've discussed this ad nauseam, Booth. You know that I do not believe in luck. You know that your wishing of luck is just to get a rise out of me, and that just because you state a superstition such as luck, doesn't mean that it will have any effect on the eventual outcome of the day."

"I think it has already worked," Booth replied.

"I don't understand."

"You answered the phone."

She thought about the implication of his words, and she knew that he was right. The delay she had been experiencing was lessening, but there were still things she couldn't do if she thought about it too much. Answering the phone had been one of those things that would cause her enough of a pause to initiate a responsive delay, causing her mind to go blank at the sound of the ringing phone. In her frustration to get to the phone to yell at Booth, she didn't give herself time to think about it, she simply jumped in and answered. "You are experimenting, Agent Booth."

"I am simply calling my partner to wish her luck on her first day back at work." His voice was teasing and tender.

"And I am simply hanging up on you." She said with a smile. When she heard his laugh, she put the phone back on its cradle and looked up.

Through the blinds of her office, she could see out into the lab. People moved quickly around the large open space doing their jobs just as they always had. She thought about how while everything in her life had been turned on its ear, the lab went on as it always did. It comforted her to know that while so many things in her life had changed, there was this one constant in her life.

After a moment, there was a gentle rapping at the door, and Brennan's attention went to the door. "You may enter," she called slowly. The door opened to reveal Hodgins, a bright smile on his lips.

"Hey, Dr. B."

"Jack,"

"It's good to have you back." He stood awkwardly for a moment, and smiled, taking a step back.

"It feels good to be back."

"Uh, no rush," he stammered, looking behind him for a moment. "But we could use your expertise out here with the victim on the platform."

"Hodgins, I'm not… I don't know if…"

"See you out there," he winked and turned around, hurrying away from her office and toward the platform.

Brennan scowled after him and stepped out of her office. Walking toward the platform, she noticed Angela standing by the steps. She pulled at her ID badge and looked up at Angela.

"Bren, I'm really sorry. I was out of line, and…"

"No, Ange, you are right," Brennan said, taking a slow, deep breath. "I cannot be afraid to ask for help." She handed Angela the ID card, and watched her brow furrow in confusion. Angela ran the card and handed it back to Brennan. They stepped up the stairs to the platform and Angela looked to her. "But don't be surprised if I take advantage of it."

With that quip, and a laugh from Angela, Brennan set about trying to make the most of her new arrangement. She stepped up to the body with Angela, and stopped just short. She could feel Angela's eyes on her, and was a moment away from telling her to stop, when Hodgins jumped right in with his findings.

He explained the 'what', the 'where', and handed a folder to her and simply steamrolled forward as if no time had passed at all. Brennan watched the gleam in Hodgins' eye, the way he pointed at specific things in the folder and then to the body. She could hear his voice, and understand his words, but there was something preventing her from adding anything. She looked down at the documents in front of her, and though her mind was able to interpret the words on the paper, there was a verbal disconnect she couldn't seem to overcome. Hodgins sensed her distress, and slowed his pace, coming to a stop abruptly when she flipped the folder closed and looked at him.

"Do you know what this means?" His was voice tinged with excitement. His pause only lasted a moment, as he launched into his theory of how the victim had died. Relief washed over her and she listened carefully to Hodgins' explanation, though was quickly replaced with a strong twinge of shame. It was right here with Angela at her side, Hodgins with her back, and the rest of the lab scurrying about around her that she realized the biggest mistake she had made by working with the FBI without the knowledge of her colleagues. She had turned her back on her team. She had gone out on her own in search of adventure and something more, and had left her friends, her family behind. Hodgins noticed that Brennan was no longer paying attention, and that her eyes were now focused on the tips of her shoes. "Hey, Doctor Brennan? Are you okay?"

"Hodgins," Angela said in a warning tone.

Brennan looked up at her friends and gave them a wan smile. "I um… yes, I'm fine." She nodded. "I just think that maybe I should take this info into my office, take a look for myself." She said, waving the folder.

Hodgins nodded. "That's fine."

"I'll get back to you in a little bit." Brennan said, turning quickly. She hurried off the platform and toward her office, happy that at least this time she didn't have Angela in pursuit.


	29. I Should Have Been Gone

Brennan stepped into her office and closed her door securely. She looked around at the familiar space and allowed herself a slow, deep breath. She slowly approached her desk, noting the soreness that seemed to be seeping slowly into her body as she realized that it had been weeks since she had moved around so freely. Her body was slowly recovering, and though she was happy that she wasn't cooped up in her apartment anymore, she was exhausted with the additional exertion.

She settled in her chair and immediately noticed that the height of it had been changed. She turned slowly and noticed that the drawer of her desk was open slightly. When she opened it, she was shocked to find its contents had been moved around. She opened another drawer and frowned with frustration. Slamming the drawer closed, she looked up and startled when she saw Cam peeking in the doorway.

"Doctor Saroyan," Brennan said softly. "Someone was in my office. Someone went through my things."

"That would be Booth," she stated curtly. She stepped forward entering the office, and gave Brennan a sympathetic smile. "How are you feeling today, Doctor Brennan?"

"I'm fine," she stated automatically. Though she was feeling quite weary, she wasn't interested in showing any type of weakness.

Cam could see the hollowness in Brennan's eyes and the way her body hunched slightly. Her speech was a bit slower than normal, and her face seemed gaunt. There were clear indicators of fatigue. "Were you planning on staying much longer today?" Cam asked, trying to keep her voice even.

"I would like to help Doctor Hodgins with this new case," Brennan stated without looking at Cam. She opened the folder and spread the papers out on the desk. She tried for a moment to make any sense of the notes, but refused to flinch. She looked up at Cam and lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

Cam almost smiled at the shades of the old Doctor Brennan showing through the exhausted woman before her, but caught herself. "Did you have any preliminary comments?"

"I haven't had a chance to look over the paperwork." Brennan's voice took on a defensive tone. "I was going to do that until I noticed that someone had been going through my desk. How do you know that it was Booth?" She then recalled that he had confessed to her that he had gone looking for a reason for her betrayal of their partnership.

"I saw him in here a few weeks ago, Doctor Brennan. I spoke with him, but nobody else has been in here since. I can assure you of that."

Brennan looked around and adjusted a pile of folders on her desk. She picked up a pen from the desktop and placed it in the pen cup. She looked up and realized that Cam hadn't left. "Was there something you needed, Doctor Saroyan? As you can see, I'm doing just fine." Her words were a bit slurred, and her eyes drifted when she spoke. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath, looking up at Cam with a bit more focus.

"I just don't want you to overdo things, Doctor Brennan. You do occasionally display a needlessly stubborn side." Cam watched Brennan's eyes narrow. She wasn't even sure if she was listening to her anymore. She cleared her throat. "What did Booth tell you about the case?"

"The case that Doctor Hodgins is working on?"

"No, Doctor Brennan. The explosion case. What did Booth tell you about the nightclub explosion?"

She straightened in her chair slightly, wincing from a slight twinge in her shoulder. "He's told me nothing."

"Nothing?" Cam was surprised that Booth hadn't given Brennan the details of the case. She expected Brennan to be highly involved in the investigation.

"He stated that the case would cause me undue stress, and that the FBI and the Jeffersonian were working on solving it. He said that I was too close to the case, and that it could be both psychologically, and mentally painful to re-live the incident," she stated with only a bit of emotion. She remained stoic and unmoved by her statement. "I trust his judgment here, and I had given a statement. He said that they have been working very hard at solving the case." She paused when she saw the look of sympathy in Cam's eyes. "Why? Has there been movement on the case?"

"None."

"Excuse me?" Brennan asked, her jaw open slightly in shock.

"There's been nothing. The blast was caused by a pipe bomb that was placed under the bar. There were no fingerprints, none of the witnesses saw anything, and the bar owner was killed in the blast. The FBI put the case on indefinite hold two days ago when these remains arrived."

"I don't understand," Brennan said, standing up. She stumbled a bit and caught herself, her eyes once again moving to the papers on her desk, trying to read them. "Booth said they were working on this."

"Booth probably still is working on it. But officially, the case has been put on hold."

"That blast could have killed me, Doctor Saroyan. It killed six other people. It maimed and mutilated dozens more!" She exclaimed angrily.

"Doctor Brennan, I understand," Cam said, trying to keep her voice calm and even.

"No! No, you do not understand!" She shouted, standing quickly to face Cam. "You can do your job. You can… function without pain medication. You can…read these documents with relative ease! You can walk into an enclosed space without feeling like you are being suffocated. You do not understand how I feel, Doctor Saroyan!" Her eyes closed tightly as she fought tears and dizziness from standing so quickly.

"Doctor Brennan, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I just need a second. I just need a second," she stammered.

"Do you need me to call an ambulance, get your medication or something?" Cam asked, reaching out for her hand.

Brennan snapped her hand back and looked Cam in the eyes. Her eyes were watery with pain, and her ears were ringing angrily. "I am fine. I am perfectly fine!" She exclaimed. "Just give me some time to myself, please."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Brennan glowered at Cam for another moment. "I am sure."

Cam watched her for a moment and quietly retreated toward the door. She looked back at the forensic anthropologist one more time as she approached the door. "I'm sorry, Doctor Brennan."

"I am sorry too," Brennan said angrily, crossing her arms over her chest she waited until Cam had left the room and closed the door behind her, before she turned and collapsed into her chair.

She closed her eyes tightly, resting her head in her hands for a moment. She pressed her palms into her eyes and took slow, refreshing breaths. After a moment, she stood and walked toward the door, lifting her bag from the floor, she put it on her desk and began rifling through it. Her pills were in color designated containers to help with identification, and she dutifully took the pain medication from the small blue box. She pulled a bottle of water and put two white pills onto her hand before tossing them onto her tongue, taking a large gulp of water. She stumbled slightly for the door and turned the lights off, before shuffling to the couch in the dark. Her last thought before drifting into a medically induced sleep was how the silence of her office was now replaced with deafening tinnitus and residual memories pushing their way to her conscious mind.


	30. Long ago, Far away

_She hears herself laugh. Loud and boisterous, the sound is unfamiliar in her ears. Her body is moving and there is no pain, just movement. She hears her laugh again and can sense the nuance in the sound. She can hear the forced lilt that seems to push the uncharacteristically bubbly sound into her throat. She turns her body and sees a familiar face. _

_Booth. He can't be here._

_Her breath caught in her throat, and she is speechless for a split second before her mind clicked back into reality. A slow, sly smile appeared on her lips, and she moved her body closer to him. She could see the surprise in his face, and was surprised herself when he danced into her without a second thought. She placed her hands on his shoulders and moved closer to him. "Hey, Stranger," she purred loudly enough so that others around her would hear. She began to dance with Booth a bit provocatively. Her eyes remained on his, and she tried to figure out what to say to him. She never expected Booth to show up in a place like this, and the fact that he was surprised to see her, made it clear to her that Hannah was probably here as well. _

_Booth didn't say a word, simply stared into her eyes, seemingly lost for words. She feared her cover would be blown, and that everything she had worked so hard to do for this case would be for nothing. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against his ear and lifted her arms to his shoulders. She breathed him in, and that momentary distraction caused her to stumble into him a little more. "Get Hannah, and get out of here."_

_"What are you doing here?" he whispered. The hairs on her neck lifted when she heard the anger in his voice._

_"I'm undercover. You need to get out of here now." She pulled away from him and turned, spying her mark a few feet away. "Ah, there you are, baby," she cooed, keeping the ruse. She turned to Booth to see him glowering at her. "Thanks for keeping me company," She winked at him, hoping he'd get the hint and let her finish her job. She turned and grabbed the other man's arm and laughed, melting back into the crowd._

_As soon as she left Booth, she could feel panic starting to rise in her chest. She knew that Booth was not happy with her right now. She also knew that there was no way that this assignment was going to go any further without his involvement. He may have been distant recently, and he may have moved on, but from the intensity of his stare on the dance floor, she could almost feel his protective instinct kick in. _

_Brennan danced with her mark for a moment or two more, and excused herself to go to the bathroom. She moved through the crowd, and lifted a cell phone to her ear so she could talk to the agents on her team without arousing suspicion. "I believe we've been compromised," she said, moving toward the bathroom._

_"No kidding," Agent Willis replied. "Are you okay to continue? He looked pretty surprised."_

_"I think he'll be fine. He understands the importance of something so sensitive, he will probably have something to say later, I'm sure." Brennan put her cell phone into her small purse and pushed her way into the restroom. She looked around at the other women in the restroom and felt a little out of place. Even though she had been groomed for the assignment, she still felt uncomfortable in the situation she had put herself into. Brennan had been able to compartmentalize that feeling most of the night, pushing her thoughts to a far less logical place. Booth's presence had only succeeded in pushing her insecurities to the forefront. Trying to calm her nerves, she stared at her reflection in the mirror, trying to figure out what her next move would be. With a deep breath, she turned around and walked back out into the club. _

_She kept her eyes open, and the camera in her brooch focused on specific people that seemed to be friendly with the workers at the bar. It was a couple of seconds before she heard it, but it was clearly Booth's voice. She turned her head as if he was speaking to her from within feet, and realized quickly that the commotion was coming from her earpiece. Brennan gritted her teeth, listening to her partner's tirade in the background._

_"Willis," Brennan sighed._

_She heard the agent's voice through the earpiece. "Yeah, he's here. Don't worry, hasn't yanked the headphones off my ears just yet." The agent chuckled._

_Brennan sighed heavily, knowing that Booth wasn't going to let up. "Willis, he's not going to go away," she said out loud. "Just tell him… tell him…" She also knew that if she didn't get somewhere to talk to him, the headphones would be the first thing that Booth yanked off Willis. Quickly Brennan moved through the crowd again, on her way to the restroom. She knew that there, she would be able to hear the phone, and herself think. She turned around quickly when a man grabbed her hip, looking to dance with her._

_"Get lost." She said quickly. She looked around the room and noticed that in a split second, the mood of the crowd seemed to have changed. There was a tension in the air that hadn't been there before. A woman mentioned something about smelling something burning. Whispers and confusion all around confused Brennan, and she pushed into the restroom. People shuffled past her out the door quickly, words hanging in the air that hung at the fringe of her mind. She hoped the recordings would catch it. She pulled out her cell phone and walked into a stall. She could hear Booth's voice through the headpiece. She could hear the fear, when suddenly the walls seemed to swallow her up in a cloud of pain, smoke, and fire._

_She could still hear his voice. He was close._

_"Bones? Come on, Bones. It's alright, I'm here."_

She was startled from her sleep suddenly, nearly smashing her head into Booth's. She sucked in a deep, painful breath and was almost surprised that it wasn't filled with dust and smoke. Instead, it was clean and familiar air, and her eyes were staring straight into his. "Booth," she gasped.

"Are you okay?" His voice was tender, his hand on her shoulder. "You were sleeping pretty soundly, aside from the yelling just now." He smiled just a little, trying to show a bit of humor, even if his eyes betrayed his fear.

Her eyes were a bit cloudy, and her brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you doing here?" She rested her head back down on the pillow. His fingertips ran through the soft tendrils of hair that had fallen over her cheek.

"I came to see if you wanted to go to lunch."

She swallowed, and her throat was dry. The clear memories of her dream clouding her thought process. "I want to go home."

"Home?" He was surprised, but relieved to hear her words. After their argument over the past week regarding her returning to work against the doctor's wishes, he was happy to hear that she had come to this conclusion on her own. "Did you want to go to the diner and get something to eat first?"

Brennan's attention wavered a moment, and then her eyes darted back to Booth. "I don't know."

Booth's brow furrowed, noting that she seemed quite disoriented. "Let's get you standing up, we'll see how you feel then." He offered her hand and she took it gingerly. Slowly, he pulled her to a sitting position. She rested her head in her hands for a moment, and Booth crouched down, placing her hands in his. "Do you want to talk about the dream?"

"No." Her answer was clear, and her eyes flicked to his.

"Was it about the explosion?"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Bones, we never talk about it."

She carefully stood and started walking slowly toward her desk. She lifted her bag to the table, and gently shuffled the papers on the desk into folder that Hodgins had given her. She looked up at him and carefully shouldered her bag. "I will talk about it when I'm ready."

"Right. Time." Booth nodded. His voice held a tinge of annoyance, but he tried not to push her.

"I just need to work this through in my head, Booth." She spoke slowly, and stepped toward him. "When I am able to sleep, I am able to recall things in more detail sometimes."

"It's like your mind is collecting evidence." He nodded.

She gave him a perplexed glare. "The mind cannot collect evidence, Booth. It can only recall the experience. A dream is simply the manifestation of my mind caused by my own exhaustion." She stumbled slightly, and he reached for her arm to steady her. "It's not always a true representation of events that occurred."

"But it can help to jog your memory, Bones. Dreams can be a healing tool."

"Not this one," she grumbled, shouldering her bag. She accepted Booth's arm and he led her toward the door slowly. "It is always the same dream."

"The explosion?"

She looked to him and nodded, walking with her through the lab. "And the events leading up to it. They're becoming clearer." She kept her voice low, and he led her toward the elevators.

"When you're ready to talk about it, I'll be here."

"When I'm ready to talk about it, I'll find you." She closed her eyes and leaned her head on his arm peacefully, feeling his strength supporting her completely.


	31. It Goes On, and On

Booth helped Brennan through the door of the diner, and she slowly walked to the table in the back. She settled in her seat and watched Booth sit down across from her. She gave him a slight smile, and he smiled back. "Are you feeling better after your nap?"

"I'm not sure that I can properly define how I'm feeling right now," Brennan sighed. "I do feel a bit more rested, but the pain medications have side effects that I'd prefer not to experience."

"I know, Bones," Booth flagged down the waitress and gave their order. He looked back toward his partner, pausing for a moment before breaking her staring contest with the window. "Hey."

"Hey," she said back, looking into his eyes. She felt his hands on hers, and he gave them a little squeeze. "I remembered something. I think that I remembered something," she corrected.

"Yeah?" Booth gave her a genuine smile, and she couldn't help but give him a sleepy smile back. "What did you remember? Was it a good thing, bad thing?"

"I think it was a good thing." She paused and sighed. "But maybe it wasn't really a memory, maybe it was just something that I wished had happened. Maybe it was just me wanting a different outcome or something."

"What was it?"

"I don't know if right now is a good time to talk about this. Maybe we can talk about it later."

He squeezed her hands and leaned forward slightly, just to make sure that her eyes were locked with his. "I almost lost you, Bones. I almost lost you in so many ways, that it doesn't even seem real anymore. Just tell me what you remember. No more hesitating, no more waiting, no more later. Just tell me."

"I'm afraid."

He gave her a kind smile, and squeezed her hands again. "You said you craved adventure, right?"

"Booth," Brennan warned.

"What, Bones? You said that the adventure of a case excites you. It makes you feel alive. It gave you an adrenaline rush, like fear or passion does. Then telling me what you're afraid of should give you that same feeling. You need to dare to let me in, Bones. You need to make that leap."

"I am afraid that I have already taken too many leaps, Booth." She studied the table as if there would be a test on it later.

"There's no such thing."

"You said it yourself, Booth." She looked up into his eyes. "I almost died."

"But you didn't, Bones. You're not risking your life here with me."

"There are other risks, Booth. There are other risks that I'm not sure that I am ready to take."

"If you can't take them with me, then who can you take them with?" Booth answered honestly. "You're my partner, I'm backing you up here."

"My personal triumphs have nothing to do with us being partners, Booth." She spoke slowly, and rubbed her face with her hand, pinching the bridge of her nose. The waitress came over and placed their orders on the table in front of them.

"Hey, we don't have to talk about this right now, Bones. It's okay. I just want you to know that you can tell me anything."

"Okay." She nodded, looking up at him. "Booth?"

"What?"

Without a moment pause, she reached across the table and stole a French fry from his plate. With a smile, she put it into her mouth and chewed. She watched the smile rise on his lips. "Nevermind." She said, reaching for a second one. All he could do was shake his head and laugh.

* * *

Booth and Brennan were just finishing their meal when the chair beside Booth was pulled out unexpectedly. Doctor Sweets plopped down and leaned into the table. "Hey guys,"

"Sweets." Booth said, leaning back to face their friend, he gave him a bit of a sarcastic smile. "What's up?"

Brennan remained quiet and just munched on a French fry. Her eyebrows lifted slightly in question.

"Just eating lunch. Bones has an appointment in a little bit."

"Physical therapy." Brennan elaborated.

"Hey, that's great. I bet it's getting you ready to get back into the swing of things again. I heard you went to the lab today, Doctor Brennan."

"Yes," she said, focusing again on her plate. Sweets could see that she wasn't in the mood to talk shop, so he looked to Booth. "Any new leads on that dumpster drop?" He asked casually.

"Nothing yet. We've got the squints working on identifying him. Things are slower without their best scientist." He smiled when she looked up at him.

She looked to Sweets, and then focused on the remaining fries on her plate. She mumbled into the plate and swirled a fry in the ketchup.

"What was that, Bones?"

"A fall," she said, looking up at him. "The skull fractures were consistent with a fall. There were also many fractures that indicated the victim was trying to catch himself."

"Is that what the squints came up with?"

"No. That's what it looks like."

"Doctor Hodgins said it looked like he had been hit with something." Sweets said, glancing between Booth and Brennan.

"Looks like Hodgins was wrong." Booth said, giving Brennan a sideways glance.

"No. Doctor Hodgins was not wrong." Brennan said, dipping her last fry into the ketchup. "The victim was hit with something. It just happened that this time the victim was hit by the ground." She said with a sarcastic smile. She shoved the fry into her mouth and shouldered her bag. "I'm ready to go now."

Sweets and Booth exchanged a glance and Brennan stood up and walked around the table. "Was that a joke, Doctor Brennan?" Sweets asked with an incredulous chuckle, following her with his gaze.

"I was actually quite serious."

Booth let out a laugh and stood up. "That was a good one, Bones," he said, following her to the cash register.

"Well, thank you," she said, a little unsure. Though with a quick glance to Sweets, it was clear that she had also enjoyed the banter. "It was nice to see you, Doctor Sweets," she called back to him.

"Yeah, Doctor Brennan. Welcome back."


End file.
